Guilty Pleasure
by Heroes Fly-Minho's Hero Limps
Summary: Newt works at the most successful company in Glade City, as the personal assistant of the owner, Minho Park. At twenty-four years old, Minho is a young, gorgeous billionaire. Newt never thought he'd be the one to steal Minho's heart.
1. Chapter 1

-Guilty Pleasure-

-Yep, I gotta brand-new chapter-fic for you guys. Though it's gonna be really short, and I don't even know what the ending is yet. XD I can't wait for you to read this, guys. It's a tiny story where Newt works as a personal assistant for the owner of a large company in Glade City. The owner is Minho, who is a young billionaire with a long list of past assistants who all took advantage of the position. Most of the story will be short scenes of them in the elevator they take every day to go to Minho's office. I really hope you like it! I've fallen in love with their characters in this story, especially Minho's.

Reviews, as always, are very appreciated and I'd love to hear from you :)-

Newt remembered the first time they were alone in the elevator together.

He was standing up straight, the way he always did, dressed in the usual black suit that guys wore here. His hands were occupied by a manila folder. It was thick with paperwork, for some new project he didn't know or understand. It wasn't his job to understand. His job was to simply help the person who would soon be reading these papers. That person was standing next to him now.

Minho Park, owner of Park Industries, was waiting patiently for the elevator doors to open. His expression was just as neutral as it always was, his jet-black hair spiked just as perfectly as ever. His fitted suit showed off his broad shoulders nicely. His hands were linked loosely behind his back, because there was nothing else to do with them while he waited.

He was a young, successful, billionaire. Perhaps the youngest to ever set foot in this pristine building. His father had done the same thing and Minho had seemed all too happy to continue the family business. Now, he was the most successful man in Glade City. And he was only twenty-four years old.

Newt knew that he wasn't the only personal assistant Minho had had. There had been dozens from what he'd heard. Some were men, some were woman; Minho didn't seem to care either way. But all of them were fired after only a month. Every time thirty days rolled around, Minho uncovered some dark secret about them and they were let go. It had become a tradition here. The other employees joked about it constantly, even snickering behind hands when Newt passed them by. The reasons for the assistants' departures were always the same: some of them wanted to find a way to steal money from a billionaire, some were sharing secrets of the company to competitors, and some just wanted to see if they could end up in bed with famed Minho Park.

But he would never sleep with an assistant, Newt thought to himself, almost laughing at people's foolish audacity. But at the same time, he couldn't help but think that he didn't blame them for that part at least. Minho was wealthy, young, and to top it off, stunningly attractive. Newt found himself sneaking sideways glances at his employer on a daily basis now.

Ironically, Newt was the only personal assistant that actually had more of a chance with Minho than any of the others. He hadn't been working there for a month. He'd worked for two. Sixty whole days, he'd been in this building, taking care of Minho's every need. He didn't mind. It was a good-paying job, especially since Minho insisted on a raise halfway through the two months of Newt's employment. The other workers suspected favoritism, and they quickly hated Newt for it. Everyone wanted to be liked by Minho Park. He'd never shown that he'd liked anyone before. Not like this.

Anyway. Every day, they ended up in this elevator, on their way to Minho's office on the top floor. Newt was almost always holding something like the folder he held now and Minho took nothing. This was, however, the first time they'd been alone in the elevator. No other black-suited men around them. Just them.

The air felt charged with electricity.

"You have everything?"

Newt blinked, faintly surprised. Minho never asked him things like that. He was Newt, patient, organized Newt. He always had everything. "Yes," he answered anyway.

"Good. And did you send those papers to Edison?"

Thomas Edison was newer here too, though his rank was a bit higher than Newt's. "Yes," Newt said again, polite, but puzzled. Did Minho doubt his work now?

"Good." Minho had lowered his eyes from the elevator doors to the floor as he waited. He seemed to be fighting with himself, as though there was something he wanted to say, but he wasn't sure if he should say it. Finally, he took a breath. "You're doing well, Isaac," he remarked.

Newt inwardly felt a prickle of discomfort. He would've preferred to be called by his nickname, but of course, he understood. Minho was his boss. "Thank you," he mumbled, not really good at taking compliments.

"You like it here, don't you?" Minho asked.

"Yes. I mean, it's all right."

"All right?"

"Well. There's a lot of pressure, sometimes."

"I see." Minho glanced at Newt then, his expression questioning. "Not from me, though?"

"Oh—no, not from you," Newt stammered. "Just...from everyone else, I guess. They expect me to mess up at some point, considering your past with personal assistants." He stopped then. He didn't want to sound rude.

To his surprise, Minho chuckled. "I can understand that."

"Am I...doing something wrong? I'm sorry, it just seemed like you were asking a lot of questions."

"No, no, you're not doing anything wrong." Minho's mouth tilted up at one side, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "You're doing fine. You're easily my best assistant."

Newt felt a slight blush warming his cheeks at the praise. He smiled, and thought of saying something else, to keep this new conversation going. But then a little ding sounded and the elevators doors slid open. The white-and-black hallway opened before them. Newt gave a small sigh of disappointment and followed Minho out of the elevator, back toward his office.


	2. Chapter 2

-New chapter! Man, I love short chapters like this! I can write them really fast for you guys haha :)

Thanks for such awesome reviews, everybody. You're the best readers I could've asked for. I hope you enjoy this newest update, and more are coming real soon!-

They weren't alone in the elevator one week later, unfortunately.

A woman was standing at the back, along with a balding man, both dressed in black. They were examining some paperwork, the woman's scarlet lips moving as she read under her breath. Newt tried not to pay them any attention. He glanced down at the newest, manila folder in his hands and wondered what on earth could be inside. It was a thick one this time, full of some project of a sort. After a moment of trying to peek at the cover page, he gave up. Sighing softly, he listened to the sounds of the elevator climbing upward, of the woman's hushed reading behind him. Wondering if any of this annoyed Minho, he glanced over at the other man.

To his surprise, Newt saw that Minho himself was preoccupied with something. He was holding his cell phone in one hand, an expensive, sleek, silver thing. With brow furrowed, he seemed to be reading something. Newt blinked, and struggled not to discreetly peek at the phone's front. Maybe it was a text? He watched curiously as Minho's thumb moved over the screen, scrolling through something as he read. His lips parted slightly in thought, dark-chocolate-brown eyes flicking over the words.

Newt didn't even realize that he was staring until his eyes prickled, and he had to blink. He glanced away, scolding himself. Minho was his boss, not some other guy he could swoon over. Yes, he was good-looking. It was okay to notice that. But he shouldn't be noticing anything else.

After a few moments, he shifted his gaze back to Minho again. He wanted to prove to himself that he could look at the other man without losing his mind. Minho must've been reading a text; whatever it was, it made him laugh. Well, he wanted to laugh, anyway. He wouldn't do that in front of other employees like this. But his eyes lit up and a smile threatened to curl his lips; he bit his bottom lip to stop it, but his mouth still curved up at one side. Newt stared dumbly at Minho's teeth snagging the soft bow of his lip. Then Minho began typing back something, just using one hand. His eyes were intent, and he licked his lips in subconscious thought. God, he had the softest, kissable mouth.

I'd like to kiss that mouth, Newt thought dazedly. Then he instantly dropped his gaze away. He couldn't believe he'd just thought that. He inwardly punched himself. Here he was, in a shucking elevator, imagining himself kissing his BOSS. Sure, no one else knew about it, but HE knew. He shouldn't be thinking these things.

"Isaac?" Minho's voice snapped Newt out of his thoughts.

"Y—Yes?" Newt asked, horrified at how he stuttered. He cleared his throat and tried to gather his senses again.

"Is something wrong?" Minho was watching Newt with that dark gaze of his.

Newt shook his head. "No, nothing's wrong. I was just, um, daydreaming, I guess."

"Are you sure? You look a little flustered..."

"I'm fine. Really. It's nothing."

Minho studied Newt's face for a few more seconds. Then he gave a single nod. "All right. If you're sure."

Newt closed his eyes briefly.

Truth be told, he wasn't all that sure of anything anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

-Yayee! New chapter again! Can't wait for you to read it! Let me know what you liked, okay? :)-

Newt knew he was late when he rushed to get to the elevator that day. It wasn't entirely his fault, in his defense. His friend, an energetic girl named Teresa, had kept him waiting outside with her lively chatter. She'd gotten it into her head that Newt had some childish crush on his billionaire boss. All because he described Minho as "nice-looking." She blew it way out of proportion, of course, and now she was convinced that Newt was hopelessly in love.

Which he absolutely WASN'T.

Anyway, thanks to Teresa's not-so-appropriate comments about his boss, Newt was both late and furiously trying to stop himself from reacting to her words. He figured he'd mastered his facial expression by the time he reached the ivory hall that led back to the elevator doors. But as soon as he saw the tall form of Minho waiting outside them, an awful blush began to burn Newt's cheeks. "Dammit," he muttered under his breath. He knew his face was bright red by now, but there was nothing to do to stop it. Best to just suck it up and get in the shucking elevator.

Sighing heavily, he joined Minho just as the doors slid open. Minho arched a brow at his assistant in curiosity. "You're nearly late today, Isaac," he remarked. "Did something happen?"

"Oh. Nothing," Newt replied, trying for a reassuring smile. "My friend was outside and she just, um, kept me talking longer than I should have."

"Does she have black hair?" Minho asked. "I thought I saw you talking to someone like that yesterday."

"Yes, she does." Newt waited as Minho walked into the elevator before trailing after him. He pressed the same button he always did and took his place beside Minho. "Her name's Teresa."

Minho dipped his head in acknowledgement. "I don't want to sound like I'm prying, but is she your girlfriend?" he asked politely.

The question caught Newt off-guard, mainly because everyone he knew had seen him and Teresa together; they all understood that they were just friends, nothing more. They couldn't be anything more because it would ruin their sister-and-brother bond, and well, Newt was gay. He shook his head. "No, she's not my girlfriend," he answered. "I'm not seeing anyone."

Minho's eyebrows rose in surprise. "No one?"

"No."

"Huh." Minho fell silent then.

The doors slipped closed with a whisper of movement.

The two stood side by side as the elevator began to ascend, making hardly a sound as it did. The silence was comfortable between them, as they'd gone through this many times before. In the new quiet, Newt went back to getting himself under control. He could still feel that horrible blush in his face, and it only worsened when he glanced at Minho. He couldn't explain it. Just a few suggestive words from a friend and now he was seeing Minho in a whole different way. He struggled not to think about things like what Minho must look like without that suit, or the distracting way he was looking at Newt through sooty lashes.

Wait, what?

Newt blinked when he realized that yes, Minho was looking at him. Right now. There was a sort of intensity in his gaze, as though he was deciphering some difficult puzzle he saw in Newt. He cocked his head to one side. "Are you okay, Newt?" he asked in faint concern.

Newt felt a jolt in his heartbeat. Minho hadn't called him "Isaac." "I'm okay," he replied uncertainly.

"It's just very unlikely for you to be late..."

"It was only because of Teresa. It won't happen again."

Minho stepped closer to Newt, causing the blonde to stiffen. "You're sure you're not sick?" Minho asked in faint concern. "You're a little flushed." He reached up hesitantly and Newt felt the barest brush of fingertips over his cheek.

That was when a line was crossed. In no situation, under any circumstance, was an employer allowed to touch his assistant in that way. Newt knew this. Newt was fully aware of the dangers.

He found that he couldn't really move.

Minho's fingers continued to slip over his cheek, cool against his hot skin. They trailed back toward his ear, palm grazing his jaw. Newt wanted to say that he wasn't sick, he was perfectly all right, but all that came out was a soft, "Minho..."

Another line crossed. Newt wasn't supposed to call Minho by his first name. His mind reeled with this knowledge, but at the same time, his body reacted the way it wanted to. His chin tipped up a bit, head tilting to lean into Minho's touch. His eyelids fluttered shut and his lips parted ever so slightly.

Minho drew in a breath and then held it. His thumb rested on the place under Newt's eye. He gently stroked it over Newt's cheek once, eliciting a small sigh from the blonde. It seemed to only encourage him to keep doing what he was doing.

Newt was hyperaware of every single one of Minho's fingers on his skin. He was drowning. He heard the chime of the doors, right before they began to open. In a flash, Minho's touch was gone. Newt opened his eyes in confusion and disappointment, tangled with a new fear: he'd just broken so many unspoken laws between them. What if he ended up jobless, just like all the others before him? He searched Minho's face, struggling to rake his mind for an excuse, an apology (though, granted, HE wasn't the one that'd been doing the touching here).

But Minho wasn't looking at Newt. He smoothed the front of his suit jacket, a nervous habit, and kept his gaze fixed firmly ahead. The doors had opened fully by now and he started forward. "Right then," he exhaled, with finality ringing in his voice, "let's go." He strode away, as proud as ever, without a backward glance.

Newt huffed out a half-relieved, half-anxious breath, and hurried to catch up to Minho.

He could still feel the ghost of Minho's fingers on his cheek.


	4. Chapter 4

-All right, here's one more chapter for you guys ;)

Thanks for the wonderful reviews again; they really inspire me to keep writing through the writer's blocks, haha.

PS: guest reviewer, luna: no, not all of the story will happen in the elevator, lol. But a lot will. I wanted it to be a very short story of little moments of them alone and they really only have alone time in there. But there will be some more moments outside of it later, don't worry. And thanks for the review! :)

Hope you like it!-

Newt was now breathlessly waiting for another day alone with Minho.

He wasn't sure how he felt now. Half of him was anxious to be alone with Minho, because he knew that what they'd done was wrong. Sure, they really hadn't done...much...but still. It was inappropriate. The other half of him ached to be in that situation again. There was no denying that Minho had some kind of effect on Newt. It wasn't like anything he'd experienced before. He'd had crushes before, yes, and felt butterflies when a cute boy talked to him. But it wasn't like this. It wasn't flames leaping over his skin at a touch, or a foolish smile on his face at some praise. It wasn't the dizziness he felt when he was close enough to smell Minho's cologne.

Ugh, now I'm even noticing how he smells, Newt thought, groaning under his breath in despair. How had it gotten this bad? He was just a personal assistant, for God's sake! He shouldn't be thinking or noticing anything about Minho.

Huffing out a rough breath, he walked through the glass double doors and into the building of Park Industries. It was a Wednesday. The lobby was buzzing with that midweek activity that came to this business. Men in suits hurried back and forth, some carrying paperwork or briefcases. Others were talking seriously into cell phones. There were quite a few women too, all dressed in white and black as well. Their sharp gazes and crimson lips set them apart from their male coworkers.

When it came to the pressure of his job, Newt felt that it came more from the women than anyone else. There was, for example, the girl at the front desk. Her dark blonde hair was pulled back into a tight bun every day, and she had the most wintry, grey eyes. She always sent Newt a slight smirk as he walked by. Once, she asked him how he liked being Minho's "errand boy." There was just enough lightness in her voice to scrape by as being polite. Newt saw straight through it though. He knew she despised him. They all did. They would've given anything to be Minho Park's favorite; and Newt had taken that title without even trying.

It was both a curse and a victory to him.

There were times when Newt hated being Minho's favorite, hated everyone's whispered gossips and dark looks. But there were other times when he relished it. When he waited with heartbeat racing for one of Minho's compliments or the rare smile. It was impossible to not want that in some way. Anyone would.

On that particular day, Newt made it past the front desk without that damn blonde tossing him a snarky remark. Triumph flickered through him as he made his way back the short hall to the elevator. Minho was waiting, as he always was, just outside of the doors. He was reading something on his phone, head bent forward. When he noticed Newt approaching, he tucked his phone away and pressed the button outside the elevator. He turned toward the blonde as he drew closer.

"Newt," he greeted, nodding once. His lips tipped up at the corners.

Newt blushed in delight. He'd been called "Newt" again. "Mr. Park," he replied respectfully.

Minho smiled as the doors opened before them. "Call me Minho," he said, before he stepped into the waiting elevator.

Newt dropped his gaze bashfully as he trailed behind Minho. Turning, he pushed the button for the top floor, then backed up to stand next to the other man. He scanned the hallway briefly as the doors began to close. It looked like they'd be alone again today. What a pleasant surprise.

The doors shut with a new finality, muffling all sound from outside. The two were descended into silence.

Newt tried to settle back into his old routine: wait for the doors to open, keep himself busy with thoughts of work, listen to the elevator's low rumblings. But he couldn't. The tiny space suddenly felt like it was shrinking around him even more. He seemed closer to Minho now, too close. The space between them was heated. He took a deep breath and then let it out quietly. His gaze struggled to stay fixed on the floor instead of flicking up to Minho.

It was Minho's voice that broke the fragile quiet first. "Newt?"

"Yes?"

"...do you even realize what you do to me?"

Newt froze. His mouth opened, then closed again. Had Minho really...Did he just...WHAT did he just say? Newt glanced over at his boss and saw that Minho was watching him intently. It was a look Newt had never seen before, a look that seared his skin like a physical touch. He stuttered, "I—I don't think I know what you're, um, talking about."

"You don't?" Minho tipped his head to once side, an unexpected mischief in his face.

"N—no," Newt stammered. "I'm your...I'm your assistant, Minho. You shouldn't..." he trailed off, unsure.

Minho blinked, all play vanishing from his expression. He straightened up and looked away from Newt again. "Right," he said, a tinge of disappointment in his words. "I shouldn't have said anything. I assumed you felt the same, and obviously, you don't. I'm sorry." His lashes lowered as he stared at the floor, the faint sadness evident in his expression.

Newt knew he should leave it at that. But he didn't. "No, wait," he blurted out. Minho looked at him, puzzled, and Newt swallowed hard. "I never said that I didn't feel the same."

Minho's eyebrows lifted. "You said you were only my assistant," he reminded Newt. "I thought that meant you didn't want...more."

"You just caught me off-guard, that's all," Newt managed.

Minho smiled crookedly. "You catch me off-guard every day," he admitted.

Newt felt breathless now. He could hardly believe that they were having this conversation, right now, alone. It was his deepest-kept dreams coming true. "I do?" he asked disbelievingly.

"Of course." Minho let out a nervous chuckle, so adorably unlike him. "You can't begin to know how...charming you are."

"You can't be serious."

"I am."

"But why? You could have anybody you wanted. Why me?"

Minho's eyes glimmered. "You're different from them," he said, bobbing his head at the doors to signify the other employees here. "You don't ask for more from your job, you don't complain, you're kind, smart. You're the first assistant I've had that wasn't trying to steal anything from me." He smirked then, a gorgeous twist of his mouth that made Newt's pulse stutter. "Not to mention how stunning you are."

Newt's eyes slid away, his smile wide and lovestruck under the compliments. "I guess it's true that I didn't turn out like your other assistants..."

"Well, you haven't thrown yourself at me yet, so yes, I'd say you're much better than them," Minho joked. Newt laughed, and Minho's face brightened at the sound. He lowered his voice then. "Though to be honest, I don't think I'd mind if you actually did throw yourself at me."

Newt cleared his throat nervously. "Minho," he warned, the shakiness of his voice saying it all.

"I know it might not be right, to have this kind of relationship with you. But I can't help it." Minho locked eyes with Newt, holding the blonde in place with nothing more than a single glance. "You're horribly tempting, Newt. It's taking everything I have not to put you up against the wall right now and kiss you senseless."

Newt's lungs lost all ability to breathe at the words. They crawled under his skin, smooth and seductive, setting fire to his veins. He didn't know if Minho had been thinking about kissing Newt since the very beginning. But he didn't care. He thought to himself, say no. Say he's your boss, and it's wrong, and that you made a mistake. Go back to normal. But, to put it frankly, "normal" was driving him crazy.

Breathlessly, he asked, "then why don't you?"

Minho stared at him. The lightheartedness in his expression faded away, leaving behind something like want. Longing. His eyes flitted to Newt's mouth. Newt thought he heard Minho's breath hitch.

Minho stepped closer and Newt held his breath, and—

The damn doors began to slide open. They'd reached the top floor.

Minho backed away again, putting a safe distance between them. He was flustered, adjusting his tie, and with a light flush in his face. Newt mastered his own uneven breaths and warmed at the sight of a ruffled Minho Park. Perhaps he shouldn't have felt like this was another victory he'd earned today. But God, did it feel good.

He was grinning broadly the entire way back to Minho's office.


	5. Chapter 5

-I have been waiting to write this chapter, omg, yay! I can't wait for you to read it, so I'm gonna stop talking now. Thanks for the awesome reviews! Enjoy! :D-

One, tense week later, the pair walked side by side into the same elevator. Newt pushed the button, they waited for the doors to open, and shared an equal, weighted silence. Newt was sure his heart was pounding against his ribs so hard that everyone must be able to hear it. He couldn't wait to see if they'd be alone again, just for one day. They hadn't been the only ones in the elevator since their conversation seven days ago. He didn't know what to expect, but he needed to have just a moment with Minho.

Unfortunately, when the doors parted, there were already four other people inside. All of them wore suits or crisp dresses, along with plastered-on smiles of politeness. A man with thinning hair stepped aside to give the two newcomers room. Newt deflated in disappointment. He wondered if any of these people worked at the top floor. God knew he didn't want to be stuck with them the whole time. Trying to hide his feelings from the others, he entered the elevator and turned to face the doors. Minho took his place beside Newt, leaving only two inches between their arms. The elevator was a bit crowded now, but there was nothing they could do about that.

The doors shut and the elevator began to climb.

Newt kept his hands at his sides and stared at a foggy reflection of himself in the silver doors. The taller, broad-shouldered figure of Minho was visible beside him, sending a jump into his heartbeat. He focused instead on the sounds of a crowded elevator: someone chewing gum, the rustle of papers, a hushed murmur, the occasional cough. There was no sign of impatience from these people. Years of working here had erased that from their minds. It left behind a cool mask they wore to keep their emotions in check. Newt hoped he didn't turn out like that eventually.

While they were waiting, a brunette woman near Newt lifted her clipboard to examine some paperwork. Balancing it against an arm, she attempted to pull out a pen. With a clatter, it dropped to the floor. Newt would've picked it up for her, but she was too fast, bending down to snag it again. The action, however, made him step out of her way a little. He nearly had a stroke when his arm met Minho's. For a millisecond, they were pressed together from shoulders to wrists. Newt could feel every single muscle in Minho's arm under his suit. Swallowing, he waited for the woman to pick up her pen before he quickly moved back to his place again. He studied his shoes. "Sorry," he muttered to Minho.

"It's fine," Minho murmured back, sounding a bit shaky himself.

Abruptly, the doors dinged their soft chime.

Newt blinked in surprise. This wasn't the top floor yet. Someone must be getting off here. A hallway much like the others opened before them, leading off into offices and conference rooms. A wall of elegant, black-and-white photographs was visible from here. With a murmur of voices and the low shuffle of feet, other people in the elevator moved forward. Newt and Minho retreated to opposite sides to let them out. A few of them nodded respectfully to Minho and others offered Newt the flicker of a smile. Then they were gone, striding down the hall in one, buzzing pack.

The doors shut again. And again, the elevator rumbled in its ascent.

Newt realized with a jolt that he and Minho were the only ones left now. His hands trembled and he hid them behind his back. It felt harder to breathe all of sudden, as though the air had been stolen from the tiny room. It was replaced with fire, flames that burned Newt's skin. It felt too hot, that electrical charge that Minho always carried with him. Newt subconsciously ran a hand through his hair.

"Shuck," Minho muttered, and suddenly, he was across the elevator with his hands on Newt's shoulders. Newt gasped slightly as Minho backed him up against the wall. He had one second to feel Minho's hands cupping his face and then their mouths were crushed together.

All of Newt's senses came alive. He could feel Minho's fingers trailing into his hair, smell that lovely, sharp scent of Minho's cologne, taste Minho's lips on his. It was too much, but he wanted more of it. Minho parted Newt's lips and Newt released a whimper from his throat. He grabbed for the front of Minho's jacket and hauled him even closer. They were kissing as though the world was ending around them, gasping and frantic, aware that they only had a short time left in the elevator. Newt tilted his head up to meet Minho's mouth, eyelids falling shut. He reveled in the sinfully sweet taste of Minho's kisses, aching for more. He caught Minho's bottom lip in his teeth, tugging lightly. Minho's soft moan sent delightful shivers down Newt's spine.

Minho breathed Newt's name between kisses, speaking it with a new adoration. Fingers buried in blonde hair, he tipped Newt's head back against the wall and ran his tongue along Newt's lips. His leg slipped between Newt's and he slid his knee up just enough to drive the blonde wild. Newt's spine arched on its own and he mewled in pleasure. "Minho," he managed, and Minho pressed their mouths together again.

Suddenly, a familiar bell sounded.

The doors were sliding open.

With a gasp, Minho jumped back away from Newt. Desperate for air, Newt pushed himself off the wall and back to his normal place. He stood, cheeks flushed, as two women appeared in the hallway, waiting to get on the elevator. They gave the pair inside faintly curious looks. Newt risked a sideways glance at Minho. To his delight, Minho was just as rumpled, fiddling at his collar with one hand as though it was too hot in here for him. He sensed Newt looking and met his gaze. A flicker of something passed through his dark eyes.

The two women stepped into the elevator, exchanging a few greetings with the pair already inside. Newt waited until they passed to look at Minho again. Minho returned his gaze and the barest trace of a smirk tugged at his mouth. Biting his lower lip to hide it like he always did, he glanced away again. God, how could he be any sexier?

Newt smiled like an idiot at the floor for the rest of the day.


	6. Chapter 6

-One more chapter before my summer vacation! It's gonna be a little harder for me to update now, so you might not hear from me for a while. But don't worry, I'll finish all my stories for you guys :) Enjoy!-

Sunday came as a welcome relief from the pressure of work.

Newt was out that day, walking along the somewhat-crowded sidewalks. It was a little chilly today, but with fair skies and the promise of good weather in the breeze. He wore faded jeans and his favorite black Converses; his red-and-black plaid shirt was unbuttoned to show the charcoal Royal Tailor tee underneath. He was in the middle of humming one of their songs right now, something about fire, but he couldn't remember the title.

Newt loved being out in the city, especially when it was a great day like this. The skyscrapers shimmered brilliantly, reflecting the blue of the sky. Smaller apartment buildings loomed up out of the ground. There were restaurants opening up, releasing tempting smells of food. Cars rumbled past on the streets and a murmur of chatter filled the air. People passed by with smiles and laughter written on their faces. Newt nearly smiled himself. He was only out to visit one store in particular, but just being able to walk through Glade City made him happy.

A buzz in his pocket made him pause for a second. Fishing out his phone, he glanced at the screen. He chuckled when he recognized the name there and lifted the phone to his ear. "Can't you go one day without calling me about something?" he asked in greeting.

"Newt!" The voice was bubbly through the phone, like light birdsong. It was a girl's voice, one he knew well. "Where are you? I've been knocking on your door for the past twenty minutes and you're still not answering."

"Calm down, Teresa," Newt replied. "I'm not there."

"WHAT?" Teresa demanded, as though this was the most unbelievable thing she'd ever heard. Teresa and Newt were close friends, since they lived in the same apartment building. Teresa was one of those energetic, bouncy people that flitted from one topic to the next. She was also very smart, but you'd never know it from her job as an artist at a gallery shop. Or her scatterbrained attitude. She spent so much time in Newt's apartment that people started to think they were either roommates or seeing each other.

"Yes, Teresa, I have a life and I go out sometimes," Newt said, shaking his head at her antics.

"Well, where are you going?" she asked.

"I'm heading over to that music store for like, three minutes to buy something."

"What're you buying?"

"Nosy much?"

"UGH, NEWT."

"I'm joking. I'm buying a Maroon 5 album."

"Songs About Jane is the best album ever made."

"Amen."

"Are you sure that's all you're doing?"

Newt blinked. "What else would I be doing?"

Teresa's voice turned all teasing. "Ohhhh, I don't know...visiting your boyyyyyyfrieeeeend?"

Newt felt his face start to heat up and had to glance around to see if anyone would notice. "Of course not," he blustered. "He's not really...my boyfriend."

"Um, yeah he is," she argued. "You said he kissed you. That means he's your boyfriend."

"It was just a kiss," he protested. "I don't think he really wants a boyfriend. Maybe he just wants..." He stopped.

"What? Maybe he just wants what? A one-time thing?"

Newt's heart ached. "Yeah."

"Newt, if Minho Park wanted a one-time thing with you, you wouldn't be talking to me right now. You'd be over in his bed already."

Newt's blush deepened. "Teresa," he warned.

"Well, it's true," she pointed out. "I mean, come on. He has to know you got it bad for him. He would've taken advantage of that by now. But no. He took the time to make sure you felt the same and then kissed you in an elevator. He likes you. A lot."

"I guess..."

"All right, what's wrong?"

"I mean, we only ever see each other at work. That's it. I've never been...like, invited anywhere, or taken out on a date, or any of that crap. Don't you think he would've done that by now?"

"Hm. So you NEVER see him outside of work?"

"Never," Newt answered glumly. "Not once. Maybe I just—Oh my god." He halted dead in his tracks, his eyes widening. Because, as if on cue, there was Minho, standing a few yards away on the sidewalk. He didn't seem to have noticed Newt yet. It was the first time Newt had ever seen Minho without his suit. Minho was dressed in mesh shorts and a black tank top. The latter was tight enough to cling to his chest and the ripple of his stomach. It also did a fantastic job of showing off his arms and Newt couldn't think straight when he saw it. Minho had obviously been running because he was breathless and his inky hair was rumpled. A pair of earbuds dangled from around his neck.

"What?" Teresa was still speaking frantically into the phone. "What's happening? What did you see?"

"TeresaI'mgonnahavetocallyouback," Newt replied quickly. He heard her stammer a protest, but it was cut off when he hung up on her. He shoved his phone into his pocket and tried to teach his lungs how to breathe again. What should he do? Should he say hi? Should he pretend he hadn't seen Minho? Should he just ignore him?

I can't ignore him, he thought. But I can't just walk up to him either...can I? No, no, he's my boss...but he did kiss me...No, I shouldn't...but damn, he looks good. The inward argument went on for a good five minutes before he finally heaved a resigned sigh. He knew Minho. He'd KISSED Minho. He should have the guts to talk to him. Even if he had no freaking idea what to say. Steeling himself, he was just about to make his way over, when the world took pity on him.

Minho glanced up first and his eyes met Newt's. His eyebrows rose in surprise, before one of those lopsided smiles pulled at his lips. "Newt," he greeted with unexpected cheerfulness. Maybe he wasn't so cool and collected outside of work.

"H—hi," Newt stammered, edging up beside Minho and out of people's way on the sidewalk. "What're you doing?" Oh, okay, THAT was a stupid question, he scolded himself.

"I was about to head home, actually," Minho answered, unbothered.

"No, I mean," Newt tried to clarify, "you RUN?"

Minho laughed at that one. "Of course I do. You didn't think I just hung around the office every day, did you?"

"Honestly? Yes, I did."

Minho laughed again and a prickle of warmth tickled Newt's skin. "I guess it is different," he admitted. "To see me outside like this."

"A little." Which was an understatement. God, it drove Newt crazy, the way he and Minho were NEVER alone together ANYWHERE other than that damn elevator. They weren't even alone in Minho's own office. Financial advisors, employees with questions, reporters, and a constant string of other people were always bursting through Minho's door. It made it impossible for Newt to have a proper moment alone with Minho.

And here he was, right in front of Newt at last, looking so edible, it made Newt's thoughts fly away. He was so lost in simply gawking at Minho, that he almost missed Minho's next words.

"C'mon." Minho tugged lightly at Newt's shirtsleeve.

"What?" Newt asked, blinking in confusion.

"C'mon," Minho repeated with a laugh. "I wanna show you something."

Newt had never heard such a lighthearted Minho speaking. So he allowed Minho to pull him back away from the crowd and down an unfamiliar stretch of sidewalk. They walked for a few yards, Newt trailing behind uncertainly while Minho strode on ahead. They were connected only by Minho's fingers snagged in Newt's sleeve. There was a piece of wall up ahead that jutted out of the building to the right, obscuring a portion of the sidewalk. There was a door facing them on this side of it, but Minho swept right past it. He glanced back once, as though making sure they were hidden. Then, faster than a thought, he grabbed Newt by the shirt and hauled him around to the other side of the wall.

Newt gasped, stumbling slightly as he was whipped around out of sight. Then a brick wall was against his back and Minho's body was pressed against his. His weak whimper of "Minho" was covered when Minho kissed him. Instantly, those old sparks came back, lighting up his skin. Newt closed his eyes and welcomed the kisses hungrily. His hands were on Minho's shoulders, and then up around his neck, and then threading into his dark hair. Newt couldn't decide where he wanted to touch more. Minho was stealing his breath, forcing them flush against each other. His fingers were hooked in Newt's front pockets to keep the blonde from moving away. Not that Newt really wanted to move away.

He was pitifully disappointed when Minho broke away for air, leaning their foreheads together. Newt struggled to gather his senses again, but his mind was foggy. He didn't want sense. He wanted Minho, and he wanted him now. Part of him warned how dangerous that feeling could be. He shouldn't rush this. But another, more daring part longed to give himself away to Minho and forget about the consequences.

"Come back with me," Minho breathed, snatching Newt's attention to him again.

"Hmm?" Newt asked. He was still drunk with Minho's presence. He watched Minho's lips move as he spoke and remembered the way Minho bit his bottom lip all the time. Newt ached to see how that tasted.

"Come back to my place with me," Minho repeated. Newt stiffened immediately, because those words were implying something else entirely. But Minho was smiling as though he expected this. "I don't mean it like that," he murmured. "I just want you to stay for a little while, and see that I have a life outside of work."

Newt was still hesitant. "Have you ever...invited anyone else over?" he asked.

Minho brushed a stray strand of hair out of Newt's face. "No."

Newt let that sink in. Just him. No other friends. No other boyfriends. Him. He looked up into Minho's eyes.

"Okay."


	7. Chapter 7

Minho's place was absolutely breathtaking. As soon as Newt stepped inside, he couldn't stop himself from gaping at everything in awe. He'd never been somewhere so big before. To his surprise, the walls and furniture weren't black-and-white, like the interior of Park Industries. Instead, everything was very warm and welcoming. Soaring, honey-colored walls loomed above him, broken by doors of deepest mahogany. The stylish coffee tables and chairs were all sweeping lines of the same, red-brown wood. They gleamed cleanly in the light.

Newt kept on slowly exploring as Minho closed the door behind them. The click of the door echoed in the massive rooms, but was quickly silenced again. Newt hardly noticed as he wandered through the open layout of the kitchen and then the living room. The kitchen was beautiful, all sleek cabinets with curving handles. The stove, refrigerator, and other appliances shone silver from their places by the walls. A modest, but wonderfully designed island sat waiting for visitors to occupy the stools around it.

The living room was just as amazing. Plushy sofas and an impressive flat screen, a recliner by the wall. The room was ruled the most by one wall made entirely of windows. Sunlight spilled across the hardwood floors, illuminating everything to gold. It lit up the spiraling form of a staircase leading up to other unknown places. Newt wondered if he'd be able to go up there sometime.

"You live here all alone?" Newt asked, spinning in a slow circle to take everything in.

Minho chuckled. He was over by the kitchen island, setting down his earbuds and phone. "Who else would I live with?" he asked in return.

"I dunno," Newt shrugged. "It just seems like a really big place. Lonely."

"Yeah." Minho's voice went a bit odd, but he swept it away again with his dazzling smile. "What about you?"

Newt glanced at him curiously. "What d'you mean?"

"Well, you've seen my life outside of work now. I was just interested in yours."

"Oh. Well." Newt made his way back to the kitchen and paused to run his finger over the smooth marble island. "I live in an apartment. The same building as Teresa, so she's always making my life interesting. She drags me out to parties a lot, or over to a show at her art gallery shop. So I'm never bored."

Minho leaned forward and rested his elbows on the counter as Newt talked. His head was tilted to the side as though he really was interested in Newt's so-much-smaller life. "Sounds like fun," he remarked.

"Teresa's always been like that, yeah." Newt perched on a stool so that he faced Minho. "But I'm not...I don't really do anything all that exciting. I'm not like you, with all of this." He gestured at the shining things around them.

"And you think that's a bad thing?"

"It's not exactly a good thing."

Minho's lips quirked in the suggestion of a smile. "How is my life so much better than yours?" He straightened up as he said it, linking his fingers together and stretching his arms over his head.

Newt watched the muscles flexing beautifully and swallowed hard. "You're a billionaire," he pointed out. "You can have anything you want."

"Not anything," Minho protested mildly.

"Please," Newt scoffed. "Name one thing you can't buy with all that money of yours."

"You."

Newt blinked. A slight blush colored his cheeks. "Oh." He lowered his gaze, fighting off a wide grin. "I...Yeah."

Minho was watching him, studying the way Newt smiled shyly and couldn't keep his eyes away from Minho for more than a second. After a moment, Minho's own smile started to fade. "Newt."

"What—mm." Newt's question was interrupted when Minho stepped forward and kissed him for the second time that day. Newt closed his eyes and let himself sink into this feeling. Minho's hands were at his jaw, cupping his face. They kissed slowly and softly at first, Minho's lips teasing Newt's with gentleness. But after a bit, they grew heated and shivery. Minho had parted Newt's lips and his tongue was driving Newt wild, and Newt couldn't breathe. But instead of pulling away, he pushed closer, teeth snagging Minho's upper lip. Now they were gasping, teeth and tongue grazing over each other in their desperate search for more of this sinful taste.

Newt felt Minho's hands slip from his jaw and glide down his neck. Sure fingertips traced the lines of his arms, dropping at where Newt's hands clung to Minho's shirt. They continued down his sides to his hips, toying with the waistband of his jeans. Minho drew back then, but only to ghost his lips along Newt's jaw. He kissed down the sweep of Newt's throat. Exhaling roughly, Newt allowed his head to fall back, exposing his neck. Minho's mouth was there at once, kissing and nipping at the skin. A wave of dizziness passed through Newt. He couldn't remember the last time an attractive man had kissed his neck (without being drunk, that is) and it was more of a turn-on than he'd thought it'd be. But he also knew where this kind of kissing headed and he wasn't so sure about that. Would he want to possibly end up in bed with Minho? Um, YEAH. Would he want that today? Not exactly.

All of these thoughts were swept aside when Minho dragged his teeth over the side of Newt's neck, where his shoulder and collarbone met. Newt hissed and arched his back incoherently. Minho took the collar of Newt's shirt and tugged it aside. Making a soft sound, he kissed at the same place. "Newt," he mumbled drunkenly. He bit gently at the skin, making Newt gasp sharply. Then he closed his mouth over the bite and sucked. Newt moaned out loud, and hated himself for it, but he couldn't help it.

Minho raised his head then, and pressed his forehead to Newt's. "God, you make me do things I'd never think of doing," he breathed out, his chest rising and falling unevenly. His eyes raked over Newt's body, taking in every lean muscle. "You're my assistant, for God's sake. I used to have some self-control, but now I can't even think straight when I touch you."

Electricity skittered up Newt's spine at the words, because he'd felt that way since the very beginning. "You do know that...we shouldn't really be seeing each other...right?" he asked tentatively. He wanted this, wanted every second of it so bad, but if anyone knew...

He'd have a lot more to fear than people hating him for favoritism.

"I know," Minho sighed. "Trust me, I know. If you wanted to stop this now, I'd understand why."

Newt shook his head and wrapped his arms around Minho's neck. "I'm already in too deep when it comes to you," he murmured. "I was since the first day I met you."

Minho looked like he wanted to smile, but he bit his lower lip. Newt's heart skipped a couple of beats in his chest. "So I guess we'll just keep...us...a secret," Minho whispered. "For a while, at least." He did smile then, but this was more of a smirk, one-sided and sexy. "Though there's nothing I'd want more than to show you off."

Newt had to grin stupidly at that because MINHO PARK wanted to show him off, when clearly, it should've been the other way around. "Min," he laughed, lightly rubbing their noses together, "you're gonna be the bloody death of me."

Minho raised his eyebrows, mouth quirking up in delight. "Min?" he repeated. "You have a nickname for me?"

Newt blushed. "You call me Newt," he reminded him.

"Yes, but so does everyone else." Minho's eyes softened. "Nobody calls me Min."

Newt couldn't stand such a look on Minho's face, so he kissed him again.

He could definitely get used to this feeling.


	8. Chapter 8

-New chapter! Sorry for the wait, but on the bright side, there's more Minewt love in this one! I'm wayyyyy to addicted to them, guys. I'm very glad you all enjoy this story so much, and I can't wait to see what you think of the newest chapter. Until next time! :)-

The following days were glorious.

Well, they were also secretive.

But glorious, nonetheless.

Newt was grinning from ear to ear every time he walked down that familiar hallway toward the elevator. When he saw Minho waiting for him, it only added to his good mood. They would wait for the doors to open and share quiet conversations together. Most of the time, if other people weren't nearby, Minho's tone and words would turn flirtatious. He never failed to make Newt blush at some point. Then, the doors would release their gentle chime, and they'd walk into the elevator together.

If there were other people in the elevator, the most Minho would do was let his shoulder brush Newt's once in a while. Sometimes, if he was feeling daring, their hands would touch. There was always a sly smirk on his face though and it wreaked havoc on Newt's self-control. If there was no one in the elevator with them, they'd be all over each other as soon as the doors closed. Time in the elevator was short; their kissing was always frantic, smoldering, Minho taking control and pinning Newt to a wall. Hands wandered, but never farther than Newt's waist, or Minho's suit jacket. Newt had become addicted to this, to hearing Minho breathing his name in his ear, to feeling Minho's strong, steely form up against his. Perhaps it wasn't quite love, not yet, but it was...something.

They were hopelessly ruffled afterward. Minho couldn't seem to speak without stuttering once or twice and Newt's hands kept fixing his own tie. Other than that, they kept their secret well. They had to. If anyone were to find out that Minho Park was seeing his assistant in a romantic way, well, the results would be awful. Newt already dealt with rumors of being a favorite, and the resentful stares. He didn't want to imagine what abuse he'd be in for if anyone here knew about him and Minho. So, for now, the only outside person who knew was Teresa. And she'd promised on her mother's life to never breathe a word to anyone.

The secrecy was still nagging at Newt every day.

He found himself waiting breathlessly for every weekend.

Three weeks from the first Sunday Newt visited, the blonde was back under those soaring golden walls. He and Minho went through the usual conversation, acting as though they weren't going to start kissing every five minutes. This was their only true alone-time together. They weren't going to waste it with talk about meaningless things like work or the freaking weather.

They ended up on Minho's couch, and now they were sprawled carelessly across the cushions. They murmured soft, silly things to each other and shared lazy kisses in the late evening. Newt was on his back, long limbs stretched out and one hand behind his head; the other dangled over the side of the couch. Minho was on his side beside Newt, propped on an elbow and with his arm loose across the blonde's stomach. His hand moved back and forth over Newt's waist and slowly chipped away his sanity. Newt watched the fingers curling in his white tank top and longed to feel this skin on skin.

The lovely, drowsy mood was jarred by Newt's phone buzzing insistently. Huffing a sigh, he fished it out and glanced at the screen. It was an alarm he'd set, reminding him about a party he was supposed to go to with Teresa. "Dammit," he muttered, as he tucked his phone away again. "I gotta go. Teresa's going to some party and she made me promise to go with her."

The disappointment was unmistakable in Minho's eyes. "I understand," he replied in that quiet, calm way of his. Then he immediately contradicted this statement by asking, "can't you tell her you're busy?"

Newt snorted. "Doing what?" he asked teasingly. "All I'm doing is laying on a couch with you. That's hardly being 'busy.'"

"Yeah. I guess." The way Minho's eyes moved over Newt's body burned like a touch to the skin.

Newt smiled and reached up to tug at the neckline of Minho's dark gray shirt. "It's just one party," he reassured him.

"Yes, but how often do I get to be with you like this?" Minho's mouth tilted into an almost-smirk. He trailed his fingers down Newt's chest and stomach, making Newt stiffen. "How often do I get to touch you like this?" Minho asked in a murmur. His gaze flicked up to Newt's face. "You know I can't stand it sometimes, don't you? I want you, Newt, and I can't really have you."

Guilty pleasure, Newt thought absently. It was what he was to Minho. He wasn't something Minho should have, and Minho knew that, but he wanted this anyway. It stole Newt's air from his lungs, because it was sometimes electrifying to know how much Minho was affected by him. "I know exactly how you feel," he replied softly. God, if Minho knew of all those lonely nights Newt desperately wished that Minho was there with him, just to hold him...

Minho closed his hand over Newt's waist again and pulled him closer. "So stay," he said, and when Newt began to protest, he added, "just for a little longer."

"But I promised Teresa," Newt told him helplessly. "If I'm late, she'll kill me. It's only one party, that's it."

"But parties last all night," Minho pointed out. "You can't come back afterward."

"I can come over tomorrow, in the evening."

"I have one of those stupid financial meetings then."

"Crap."

"Yeah."

Newt sighed, but he knew he couldn't let Teresa down. "I'm sorry," he tried, offering an apologetic smile. "But I can't leave her hanging like this."

Minho nodded ruefully, but he understood. He always understood. "Okay. I know you made a promise, so of course you'd keep it." He rubbed his thumb over Newt's side. "Go with Teresa."

Newt sat up on his elbows to stand up, but was suddenly halted by Minho's hand on his chest. He froze, the heat of Minho's palm searing through his tank top. "But promise ME something first," Minho whispered, low and sinful, leaning in close. His forehead brushed Newt's and their noses touched. His breath tickled Newt's lips and made him ache for a kiss. "Promise me the next time you come over, I'll have you all to myself." He smirked then, deadly and seductive. "Because I know you keep your promises, Newt."

Newt couldn't think clearly with Minho's alluring scent making him dizzy, and damn, Minho just kept finding new ways to get sexier. Newt nodded weakly. "I promise."

Minho rewarded him with a painfully short kiss, a touch of their mouths together. Newt whimpered his disappointment and playfully bit Minho's bottom lip. With a gasp, Minho brought his hand up to Newt's jaw and pressed their lips together again. They were a hot mess within seconds, kissing roughly, wildly, all tongue and teeth and heat. Newt knew he should stop, but he wanted more, and every taste of Minho only made that want worse. It was Minho who broke away first, panting shakily. "God," he managed, gorgeously drunk on Newt. "You should leave, now, because I can't behave around you. I'm trying to stay sane, but you ruin me, Newt."

Newt was so utterly high on this feeling and he never wanted it to stop. "What if I want to ruin you?" he asked quietly.

Minho made a soft sound from the back of his throat and forced his eyes away from Newt. "You have to go," he breathed out. "Teresa...You promised her."

The victory ignited in Newt's heart and he was giddy with it. He stretched up and placed a chaste kiss on Minho's cheek. "Okay," he replied, making sure to whisper directly into Minho's ear. "See you tomorrow, Min."

Even those words were enough to make Minho shiver.

-x-x-x-

Newt didn't see what was so great about parties. There was a lot of shouting over loud music, and couples acting all dreamy-eyed with each other, and he could see some guy in leather trying to spike the drinks. He didn't even know the person who was throwing this party. It was one of Teresa's coworkers from the gallery shop. All he knew was that this place was too dark and he'd rather be anywhere else at the moment.

The dimness was broken only by spinning laser lights spearing through the shadows and illuminating flashes of skin and smiles. A girl's sweep of hair was lit to electric blue, a boy's eyes gleamed emerald, and someone's glass was shot through with violet. It was hard to discern much else with the bass of the music pounded in Newt's ears. It was a song he didn't recognize, but considering the electronic sounds coming from the speakers, he guessed it was dubstep. He wrinkled his nose in distaste. He would've rather been listening to Royal Tailor right now.

"Shucking Teresa," he muttered under his breath.

Newt was one of those people that lurked in the background at parties, unnoticed. He was leaning back against the wall right now, hands shoved in his jacket pockets and feeling like the nerd in a sea of popular kids. It was absolutely ridiculous. He was a shucking adult now, with a job. He shouldn't care what these other people thought of him. But he was watching them all dancing, arms up high and faces alight, and it made him feel a spike of jealousy. If only he could be like them, confident and carefree. Maybe then parties would be more bearable.

Oh, you're being stupid, Newt thought to himself. They were the ones who should be jealous of HIM. He was dating Minho Park, after all. The thought of Minho made his heart flutter and he pushed down a dopey smile. He watched the couples dancing happily together and he wished Minho was there. He didn't know when or how they were going to admit that they were seeing each other, but he suddenly hoped it was soon. He'd give anything to have Minho's arms around him right now.

His thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice yelling over the music, "pretty sick party, huh?"

Newt turned to see Teresa's face, aglow with exhilaration. Her wild hair was pulled back and her royal blue blouse hung lightly from her slender form. Newt wished he was enjoying this as much as she was. "Yeah, I guess," he replied.

She cocked her head to one side. "Aren't you having fun?"

"Not really," he answered without thinking. Then he realized that he might be disappointing her. "I mean, you know I'm too nerdy for parties like this."

"I know," she agreed, winking teasingly, "but I thought it'd be nice to get out for a while. You know, dance a little, drink a little, fall in love a little."

Newt rolled his eyes. "I don't think I need to fall in love tonight," he said flatly.

"Oh, right, you're already falling in love."

He instinctively grew defensive. "Oh, no, I'm not—"

"Newt," she cut him off. "Before you try to deny it, I want you to think about where you were today, and where you've been going every other freaking day for the past three weeks."

"I'm not in love with you-know-who," Newt said anyway. "He's just...Well, we're just...seeing each other. It probably won't last long." The words tasted sour on his tongue though.

Teresa propped her hands on her hips."You don't actually believe that, do you? Newt, you never stop amazing me. You're the luckiest guy in the world because you found someone, yet you won't admit that you might be in love with him. How crazy is that?"

"Pretty crazy," he admitted. "But I don't wanna..."

"Don't wanna what? Give your heart away? Afraid you won't get it back later?"

He gave a tiny nod.

She smiled reassuringly and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Newt," she said gently, "I hate to break it to you, but...I kinda think you already fell for him."

Newt just stared at her.

There are certain things you don't say out loud to your boss, even if you've been dating him for three weeks.

He'd been right before, when he'd spoken to Minho at his house for the first time.

He was already in too deep.

-x-x-x-

-PS: I want to write a new Of Minho & Newt story and I need an idea! Requests, anyone?

PPS: Of Minho & Newt (in case you didn't know) is the title of my married-couple series for them :)-


	9. Chapter 9

-Sorry! Another short chapter! But there's some important stuff in this one, so, yeah XD I really appreciate all of your reviews and I can't believe you left so many for a story that's still so small. Thank you so much for being amazing readers. I hope I can keep making these characters just as awesome for you guys, cuz I always try to )

Enjoy the story!-

Work was becoming close to intolerable.

It was on a Tuesday that Newt decided this, early in the morning. Warmer weather was definitely in the air, fast-approaching, but not quite there yet. He'd enjoyed the sunlit walk to the towering building of Park Industries. He was pushing through the glass double doors and then walking across the lobby, when a voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Oh, look," the voice, snide and icy, drawled lowly, "there goes the little errand boy."

Newt halted, his back stiffening in annoyance. He was just about sick of people's comments around here. Turning around, he locked eyes with the women who had spoken: that blonde, gray-eyed woman who constantly insulted him from the front desk. She was standing tall and proud in front of him now, wearing her crisp, white dress like a second skin of snow. Her hair was down in a sleek ponytail today instead of up in a bun. She regarded him coldly, one eyebrow arched as she waited for an answer.

All Newt could come up with was, "I'm not his errand boy."

"Oh? Well, then, what are you?" She smiled thinly, crimson lips slashing across her face. "I'm sure we'd all LOVE to know," she added, waving idly at her coworkers chattering away behind her.

"I'm an assistant," Newt replied. "That's—"

"What we call the errand boy around here," she finished for him triumphantly.

Newt narrowed his eyes. "Don't you have work to do?" he asked pointedly. Normally, he didn't dare to venture that far with Minho's employees, but he certainly couldn't accept this from her. He barely talked to her, barely even knew her name, for God's sake!

"I think you do too, don't you?" she asked, raising one hand to examine her pristine ivory nail polish. Her nails were sharp as talons.

"You know what, I do."

"Run along then."

Newt growled under his breath, but turned away from her anyway. He shouldn't be wasting time like this. Minho was probably wondering where he was, or he'd given up on waiting and was up at his office already. It hurt to think that this woman was making Newt's job AND relationship suffer at the same time. He adjusted the manila folder in his grasp (another new project) and started toward the hallway with the elevators.

"He calls you his errand boy too, you know," the woman added abruptly from behind.

Newt stopped. Shock rippled through him, and after it came hurt. He glanced back over his shoulder. "You're lying," he stated.

"It's easier to think that, huh?" She stalked a step closer.

"I know it's not true."

"Oh, please; he's called ALL his assistants that at one point or another."

It's a lie, Newt thought to himself. Minho wouldn't do that to you. "Why do you care so much about what he calls me?" he asked, rolling his eyes at her.

"Because I've been wondering if there isn't something else he calls you," she answered softly.

Newt froze.

"Hmm? Am I right?" She searched his gaze eagerly. "Does he call you...more than just an errand boy, Isaac?"

It was the first time she'd used his name, and it slid of her tongue like water from an icicle. Newt shivered and forced some steadiness into his voice. "No. That's ridiculous, and you'd be fired if you said that in front of him. I'm his assistant, and that's all I've ever been."

She studied him skeptically for a moment longer. The way her wintry eyes moved over him sent another shudder through Newt's body. He didn't trust this woman one bit. He was going to have to remember her name, maybe ask Minho about her. She was dangerous. After a few more seconds, she dipped her head in acceptance. "Very well. If you're sure..." She smiled again, showing a flash of teeth. "Carry on then." Spinning on a heel, she walked off with all the smoothness of a coiled cobra.

Newt couldn't move after she left. All he could think was that he'd screwed up somehow. She'd seen something, heard something. But what? They'd been so careful.

Stop it! he ordered himself sternly. You didn't do anything wrong! She's just bluffing.

He tried to take comfort from these words as he continued toward the elevator. But he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he'd made some kind of mistake.

-x-x-x-

Teresa was over at Newt's apartment again. She was pretty much over there constantly, so it was no surprise to Newt when he stepped out from a shower later to hear her chatting away on the phone somewhere. Sighing softly, he shut the bathroom door behind him with his foot. Then he pulled his red T-shirt over his head, bringing his damp hair down into his eyes. The shirt had a white smiley-face on the front, sticking its tongue out with both eyes closed. He'd paired it with black sweatpants because he always changed into more comfortable clothes after work. Pushing his bangs out of his face, he padded down the dark hallway toward the living room/kitchen.

He called it the living room/kitchen, because they were basically one room. The living room was to the right. He had a tiny TV in there, and two plushy, dark blue couches at either wall. Windows at the back looked down on the city streets below. The kitchen to the left wasn't separated from the living room by any wall whatsoever. It was very open, with a little stovetop and a center island made of dark wood. The floors matched, all dark hardwood floors that stretched through the length of the apartment (except his bedroom; there was a pale blue carpet in there). The walls were cream-colored, but the floors still made the place seem dim. Newt didn't really mind though.`

Anyway, he shuffled through the living room/kitchen, and stopped at the island. Teresa was across from him, leaning on the counter as she spoke into her iPhone. "Oh really? He DID?! Brenda, you have to call him! I don't care, you have to!" She was grinning excitedly, strands of hair falling from her messy bun and framing her face. The fingers of her free hand played with a button on her overalls; they were those short overalls girls wore, with a bright yellow tank top underneath that showed a slice of her waist.

When Newt didn't receive any kind of attention, he let her talk, heading over to his fridge. He pulled out an apple, shut the door, and trudged lazily back to the other side of the island. Flopping down onto a chair there, he pulled one foot up onto it, and looked at Teresa again.

"Well, if you don't call him, I will. Yes, I have his number...Brenda, I'm going to do this for you, whether you like it or not..."

Lifting his apple, Newt took the loudest, crunching bite he could.

Teresa's azure eyes finally found him and her eyebrows shot up. "Oops, sorry, gotta go!" she chirped into her phone. "Newt's here, FINALLY!" She hung up and shoved the phone into her pocket. "Newt! What's up? I haven't seen you in...a day!"

He chuckled at her. Would Teresa ever realize how crazy she was sometimes? "I'm fine," he told her, taking another bite of his apple. "What about you? What're you doing here?"

"I wanted to say hi, of course!" she replied.

"Hi."

"Hi." She giggled brightly. "Also, I Googled your boyfriend yesterday on my phone."

Newt paused in the act of raising the apple to his mouth again. "And...why did you do that?" he asked warily.

"I wanted to see what you were so crazy about!" she answered. "I mean, it's not like I've ever seen him in person before."

"Oh." He propped his elbow up on his knee. "Then what do you think?"

"Well, the first picture was blurry, so I though, ugh, ew, why, Newt?" Teresa laid a hand across her forehead in exaggerated despair. "But THEN, I found this way better picture, with him in his suit and all, and hot damn!"

"Teresa!" Newt scolded, embarrassed.

"It's true, though! You didn't mention that he was that sexy! I almost started falling for him myself." She fanned herself dramatically with both hands.

He couldn't help but snicker at her behavior. "Don't steal him from me, okay?"

"I wish I could, but sadly, I'm not a gay guy with a hot British accent."

Newt blinked at her, and she lifted her hands in a shrug. "What? You cannot tell me you didn't know your accent is hot." Newt kept giving her a withering look until she deflated in defeat. "Okay, I'm surrounded by gay, hot guys, stop judging me for complimenting you ONCE. I need a boyfriend."

He snorted in laughter and she snatched his apple away just to throw it at his face.


	10. Chapter 10

-New chapter, finally! Thank you so very much for the incredible reviews and support. It means the world to me, really :) And I won't keep you waiting with my talking here, so read this already! XD-

It was April 15th and Newt was glad that it was a Sunday. It meant that he got to laze around his apartment all day in sweatpants and his favorite, black-and-white Maroon 5 T-shirt. It was also a pretty important date because it was his birthday. He was twenty-three years old.

"Eh, feels pretty much the same as being twenty-two," he muttered to himself, reclining back on his couch with a bowl of pretzels balanced on his crossed legs. Kitchen Nightmares was playing on an all-day marathon, and that was what was on his TV screen right now. Newt wasn't into big birthday parties or things like that. Since he'd moved away from home to work in the city, he didn't see his parents much (well, he didn't see his dad, ever, because he'd left them when Newt was three). His mom had called that morning, singing Happy Birthday into the phone and insisting that they must get together sometime to celebrate. Newt was going to go visit her the next day.

Newt wondered if he should tell her about his whole relationship with his boss, and was about to reach for another pretzel, when his cell phone vibrated. Barely looking down, he picked it up off the couch cushion next to him and tapped the ANSWER button. "Hello?"

"Are you busy?"

Newt broke into a wide, goofy grin at the sound of that low, smooth voice. "Minho?"

"Hey, Newt." He could hear the smile in Minho's voice. "What're you doing?"

"Nothing," Newt answered, unfolding his legs and setting the bowl of pretzels on the floor. He grabbed the remote and turned down the volume on the TV.

"Nothing? At all?"

"Well, it's Sunday. Why would I be doing anything?"

"I was just wondering." A hint of something like mischief entered Minho's words. "Think you can come over today?"

Newt brightened immediately. "Sure," he answered, trying not to sound too eager. He was already standing up though. "You want me to head over right now?"

"Of course," Minho replied. "I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise?" Newt repeated, eyebrows rising. "What kind of surprise?" He couldn't imagine what Minho had planned.

"You'll find out when you get here," Minho told him, dodging the question easily.

Newt tilted his head back as he groaned. "Min, come on..."

Minho's chuckle rippled through the phone like wings beating. "I love it when you call me that."

"You're still not answering me."

"I told you how to find out yourself."

"Yeah, but it'd be easier if you just told me now. I hate surprises."

"You won't hate this one."

Newt snorted playfully. "I better not," he warned.

Minho laughed and the sound sent a little tingle over Newt's skin. "I can't wait to see you," Minho said happily, as though he'd forgotten himself and the words had broken through his calm exterior. "I mean, um," he stuttered afterward, and Newt nearly bounced on his toes in delight, "...just get over here." The last sentence was said warmly, before Minho hung up.

Newt wasted a whole thirty seconds beaming at his phone. Then he remembered he was supposed to be leaving right now and he hurriedly tossed his phone onto the couch. He changed into jeans before shoving his feet into his Converses and snagging his phone again. Shoving it into his back pocket, he walked out the door, being sure to lock it behind him. The last thing he needed was someone to break in while he was at Minho's. As he made his way out of the apartment building, he tried to imagine what this whole surprise could be. Surely Minho wouldn't plan something big or even public. People still didn't know about their relationship yet. So maybe it was something small. Just an evening together. Maybe.

Newt blew his bangs out of his face in exasperation. Great. The suspense was already killing him. He wasn't even halfway—

That was when he emerged out onto the sidewalk, into the warm, late-evening air, and halted when he saw the scene in front of him. A sleek, jet-black car waited in front of him on the road. Not being much of a car person, he didn't know what kind it was, but it looked kinda like a Really-Shucking-Expensive-Kind. The windows were tinted so it was impossible to see inside. As he gawked in awe, the driver's side door opened and a man stepped out. He was older, with gray, thinning hair and lines of age on his face. His eyes were a warm brown color and his smile was friendly. He wore a suit that matched the exact shade of that magnificent car. "You're Isaac Newton?" he asked, in a voice like deep bells.

The awe in Newt grew even more. "Uh...yeah?" He edged a step closer, confusion crowding in on his mind.

The man's smile widened. "I am Robert Charleston," he introduced himself, "but you may call me just 'Charleston,' if you want. I'm a personal driver." He reached out and pulled open the back door of the car. "And Mr. Park is expecting you."

Newt was pretty sure he'd never been more shocked than he was then. Minho had a personal driver? And he was outside Newt's apartment? AND he was going to drive Newt in this CAR? Newt decided it was probably best to not ask any of these questions out loud at the moment. "O—Oh," he stammered uncertainly. "Thanks."

He started toward the car, awkwardly at first, but more relaxed as he climbed inside. He returned Charleston's smile as he sat down. The older man closed the door and headed back to the driver's seat. As he got in, Newt examined the interior of the car in wonder. It was all black leather seats, and soft floors, and electric blue lighting. The leather was soft as butter and Newt ran his fingers over it. He couldn't believe that he was actually sitting in this car right now. A smile pulled at his mouth. He must really got it bad for me, he thought giddily.

He was about to find out how right he was.

-o-o-o-

It was the afternoon when Charleston pulled the car up outside of Minho's place. The sun was sinking lower in the sky, staining the sky creamy yellow near the edges of the pale blue. Newt gazed up at it as he climbed out of the backseat of the car. Charleston shut the door behind him and turned back with a smile. Newt had to smile back. "Thanks for the ride," he said politely, instinctively reaching out for a handshake.

Charleston waved a hand as though brushing the thank-you off. "Not a problem," he replied.

When he shook Newt's hand, though, Newt was surprised to feel something like metal press into his palm. Charleston just nodded once and turned away, heading toward a towering, beautiful apartment building; Newt assumed he lived there. Blinking, he looked down and opened his hand. A key laid in his palm, gleaming silver in the light. A little tag was attached to it with string and when he flipped it over, he found neat, flowing handwriting: HAPPY BIRTHDAY –MIN. Newt felt his jaw drop in astonishment. He stared at the key, then up at that sleekly powerful, luxurious car in front of him. Was this...was this really HIS?

"Charleston!" he called, but the old man was already gone, disappearing through the door of the apartment building. Newt gave up on going after him and glanced back down at that key. He still couldn't believe that this was his. He knew that Minho was a billionaire and probably bought this thing without thinking twice, but still. It was the most expensive gift Newt had ever received, just for his birthday. A grin was spreading over his face as he tucked the key into his back pocket and started toward the entrance of Minho's grand home. He was surprised to find that the door had been unlocked for him.

Inside, he closed the heavy, carven door behind him and paused with his back against it. In front of him, a short hallway led to the open expanse of the living room and kitchen. There was also that mysterious, ebony staircase twisting up into the upper levels. Newt took it all in for a moment, noting the golden glory of the sun in the wall of windows to his right. This place truly was beautiful and extravagant. He felt small and plain compared to it. A pang of doubt hit him briefly. Did he really fit into a life like Minho's?

"Stop thinking like that," he muttered to himself. It was thoughts like that that would cause trouble for him later. Sure, maybe he wasn't as wealthy or successful as Minho Park. So was everybody else. But Minho chose him.

Taking a breath, Newt stepped hesitantly forward down the hall. "Minho?" he called. "You in here?"

"Yeah, I'm here," a familiar voice called back from somewhere in the kitchen.

Newt heard the suspicious clatter of dishes and silverware. "What exactly are you doing?" he asked curiously.

He was about to round the corner and see, but at that moment, Minho appeared at the end of the little hallway. He was smiling in that cute way, with one side of his mouth, and leaning his shoulder against the wall. Newt paused and inwardly ordered his heart to remember how to beat properly. Minho looked good. Really good. His hair was, of course, spiked perfectly and gleamed almost-blue in the sunlight. It was still a shock to the senses to see him NOT dressed professionally for work; his dark jeans hugged his hips deliciously, and he wore the cutest, long-sleeved, blue shirt. A shining, silver cross on a thin chain hung around his neck. Newt wondered if Minho wore it all the time and Newt just hadn't noticed before.

Minho's good mood seemed to brighten even more when he saw Newt. "I was busy making your surprise for you," he explained, folding his arms over his chest.

"I thought I told you I hate surprises," Newt replied pointedly.

Minho shrugged. "I figured you'd make an exception if I was the one giving it to you."

"And why would you think that?" Newt asked. Slinging his thumbs in his pockets, he walked lazily over until he was right in front of Minho. Smirking slightly, he rested his shoulder on the wall too, mirroring the billionaire's position.

Minho watched what Newt did, an amused expression on his face. When Newt stopped mere inches away from him, Minho shifted like he wanted to touch the blonde. "Because you're here," he answered.

"So?" Newt raised an eyebrow challengingly.

Minho's smile turned devious. "And the last time you were here, you promised me something," he reminded Newt quietly.

Newt remembered that promise because sometimes, that promise kept him up at night with the memory of Minho's voice. He dropped his gaze to the floor coyly. "I don't think I remember what..." He trailed off when Minho uncrossed his arms and brought his hands up to Newt's face, cradling his jaw. Studying Newt's reaction carefully, Minho stroked his thumbs over the blonde's cheeks. Newt felt his eyelids droop and a long sigh left him. Minho drew in a tiny breath. "You promised that the next time you were here, I'd have you all to myself," he murmured. "No distractions." He leaned his forehead against Newt's.

Newt made a little sound as Minho's intoxicating scent slipped over him. "No distractions, huh?" he echoed.

"Just you," Minho murmured.

Newt smirked, but caught his lower lip in his teeth, to see Minho's reaction. Minho swallowed, staring at Newt's mouth like he wanted to be the one biting Newt's lip right now. "I think I'm a pretty big distraction," Newt said softly, "to you."

"You have no idea," Minho agreed breathlessly, before he crushed their mouths together. Without a second thought, he took the kiss deeper, parting Newt's lips with a gasp. Newt whimpered helplessly and clung to Minho's waist, fingers curling into his shirt. There was no way he could get enough of this, enough of Minho. Minho was too much of a drug, and Newt wanted more and more of him. After a few moments, Minho pulled back again shakily. His dark eyes were beautifully unfocused and it made Newt want to kiss him again and again. Suddenly, Minho's lips curved into a teasing grin. "Uh, Newt?"

"Hmm?" Newt hummed dazedly, lost in the feeling of holding Minho against him.

"You're kinda taking my shirt off," Minho told him.

Newt blinked and glanced down at where his hands had unknowingly tugged Minho's shirt halfway up his stomach. "O—Oh," he stammered embarrassedly. "Sorry." He let go and took a quick step back. He needed space between them. The air felt too hot when Minho was close and Newt couldn't trust himself around him.

Minho chuckled as he pulled his shirt back into place. The flash of olive-toned skin and the ripple of muscle made Newt tremble with want. To take his mind away from trying to strip Minho's clothes off, he slipped the key out of his back pocket. Holding it up, he gave Minho a questioning look. "What's this?"

Minho's lips curled up when he saw it. "A present," he answered simply.

"You really...bought me a car?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

Newt fingered the key absently. "They're so expensive."

Minho stepped forward and placed a kiss on Newt's forehead. "That wasn't a problem for me," he murmured. "And besides, you're worth it." He stroked a hand over Newt's hair.

Newt grinned at the fingers carding through his hair. "You care about me that much?" he asked playfully.

"I care about you too much," Minho replied softly, trailing his fingertips down Newt's cheek. Then he seemed to remember something and put a bit of space between them. But his hand only slipped down to entwine with Newt's. "Come on," he said, gently tugging at Newt's hand, "I wanna show you your surprise."

Newt let himself be guided down the remaining expanse of hallway until they reached the open layout of the kitchen and living room. He blinked when he saw what was waiting there. The marble island had its two, elegant stools on either side of it, facing each other like old friends. On top of the island were two steaming plates of some, colorful dish Newt couldn't even recognize; but it smelled absolutely heavenly, like spices and meat and other, unknown ingredients. Both the living room and the kitchen were lit by the dying rays of sunlight and the flicker of several, fat candles in corners. The whole scene was terribly romantic and simply beautiful.

Newt glanced at Minho, a smile already spreading across his face. "You made this for me?" he asked.

"What, you think I can't cook?" Minho asked in return.

"Well..."

"Oh, shut up. I know we can't go anywhere in public yet, so I thought I'd come up with something else for you." Minho flitted forward and tenderly kissed Newt's cheek. "Happy Birthday, Newt."


	11. Chapter 11

-Here it is, another chapter for you awesome readers! I can't believe how many people have reviewed and read this little story, and I'm extremely grateful. There are quite a few chapters left, so hang in there! Minho and Newt still gotta try to keep that secret... ;)

Let me know what you think!-

The dinner was fabulous.

Newt hadn't known that Minho Park, who seemed to have everyone do something for him, could cook so wonderfully. They ate in the comfort of his kitchen, the marble island cool under Newt's touch and the food lovely. They began on either side of the island, laughing and sharing conversation. But as the evening went on, they found themselves scooting their stools close together; their ankles linked together under the island and their arms brushed as they talked. Afternoon was fading fast, into the deep indigo quiet of early nighttime. Outside that great wall of windows, Newt could see the brilliant orange of the sunset reflecting in the city's steel expanse.

He knew that he should head home because it was late, but Minho kept drawing him back in. Each time he was about to excuse himself and leave, Minho said something flirtatious that would make him change his mind. Newt understood perfectly now why everyone at work was so enthralled with Minho. The charming billionaire didn't even know how he made Newt's knees weak with his rakish smiles and careless hair. He was taking Newt's breath away and he wasn't even trying.

Once the dinner was over and their conversation had all but faded away, the two made their way back to Minho's wide couch. The daylight was gone, and the room was lit only by the dancing gold of candlelight. Shadows chased each other across the towering ceiling as Newt watched drowsily. He had to keep reminding himself that this wasn't a dream, that he really was in a luxurious home, cuddling with Minho on a couch.

"I don't think I deserve you," he murmured. He didn't want to say it aloud, but he felt safe; Minho's arm was around his waist, his head nestled in the crook of Minho's shoulder, and for now, he wasn't as nervous.

Minho shifted a little in surprise. "Why?" he asked, voice low and breath tickling Newt's ear.

Newt shrugged with a shoulder. "Because you're good to me," he answered. "You don't do anything wrong to me, you spoil me with cars, and you remembered my birthday. Even though I should just be an...errand boy to you." He tested the words out carefully.

Minho stilled. "Where did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Errand boy." Minho's voice sounded sharper. "Who calls you that?"

"Some woman I work with sometimes," Newt replied uncaringly. Then he decided to take a chance. He lifted his gaze to Minho's seriously. "Do you call your assistants that?"

Minho looked back at him for a long moment. His eyes were unreadable. "Yes," he confessed.

Newt's heart ached. "Have you ever called me that?"

"No," Minho answered at once.

Newt dropped his head to Minho's shoulder again, groaning in frustrated disbelief. "Please don't lie to me, Minho," he mumbled, snagging a handful of Minho's shirt over his chest and burying his face in Minho's neck.

Minho's body stiffened under Newt's. When he spoke, there was a trace of anger in his words. "I'm not lying. I'm not." He paused. "Newt, look at me."

Reluctantly, Newt lifted his head to meet Minho's gaze again. He didn't know what he was going to find there next and it scared him. This wasn't an argument, but it was close to it. And Minho wasn't just another boyfriend to Newt. "What?" he asked, a breath between them.

"I've never lied to you once," Minho told him. He searched Newt's expression almost pleadingly. "Not once. I meant everything I've ever said to you, Newt. As for the 'errand boy' thing, I wouldn't do that to you, even behind your back."

Newt studied Minho's face skeptically, but there was nothing there but open affection and a need for him to understand. He felt a weight vanish from his heart. "Okay."

Minho suddenly raised a hand to touch Newt's cheek. "And don't say you don't deserve me," he said softly. "It's the other way around, Newt; I don't deserve you."

Newt huffed a humorless laugh. "But you're Minho Park."

"And you're Isaac Newton." Minho's mouth curved up playfully.

"You're gorgeous."

"You're breathtaking."

"You're rich."

"You're stealing from me."

Newt's eyebrows shot up. "W—what?" he stammered in shock. "I've never stolen any money, or anything from—" He was halted by Minho's mischievous chuckle, as Minho's obsidian eyes softened.

Minho leaned forward and touched a brief kiss to Newt's lips. When he drew back, there was some, unknown emotion on his face. "I'm talking about my heart," he whispered.

Newt felt a shiver run its way down the length of his spine. They'd skirted around this topic, this talk of hearts and feelings. But now they were temptingly close and he needed to know. "What does that mean, exactly?" he asked, pulling at Minho's shirt to get closer.

"What do you think it means?" Minho asked, his voice shuddering when Newt trailed his nose along Minho's jaw.

Newt growled, which was very unlike him. "It means I wanna know how you feel," he breathed. He shifted to graze his lips down Minho's neck.

Minho gasped, his fingers tightening in the back of Newt's shirt. "How I feel?"

"You're avoiding the question." Newt thought that maybe he should draw back, but he was quickly drunk on the taste of Minho's skin and high on Minho's scent. He nosed into Minho's neck, inhaling until he was dizzy with it. He was too far gone. "What do you mean when you say I have your heart?" he asked, hushed and searching.

"Don't make me say it," Minho moaned out, as Newt's mouth seared his throat, back to his ear. He dropped his head back, baring his neck, and it was the most beautiful invitation Newt had ever seen. He let the subject drop so he could focus on every inch of skin he could find. He trailed butterfly kisses down the middle of Minho's throat, nipping softly. Feeling bold, his blood burning inside of him, he gave a tentative lick to the side of Minho's neck. "Ohh..." Minho practically purred at Newt's touches, his eyes drifting shut. "Newt...what're we doing?"

"I don't care," Newt mumbled into Minho's jaw. "I don't wanna stop."

"Maybe we should," Minho slurred weakly, as Newt mouthed up his neck and caught his earlobe in his teeth. Newt felt lightheaded at the taste and hesitantly sucked on Minho's earlobe. He whimpered aloud at the sensation and did it again. Minho made a broken sound, logic and desire tangled up in his voice. "Shuck it," he muttered, turning his head and catching Newt's lips with his own.

Minho kissed like he meant it, like he was claiming Newt as his own. Newt was shocked by the heat of it, a glimpse of what Minho was like when he lost control. The kisses were long, and dirty, and deep, and God, Newt never wanted to stop. Minho was a different person, licking over Newt's lips, and then past them; he kissed with demanding, slow sweeps of his tongue that made Newt's body feel weak and shivery. He felt Minho shift on the couch, turning his body. And then he was straddling Newt's hips and burying his fingers in pale gold hair to reel Newt even closer. Newt could feel the heat of Minho through his jeans and he scrabbled for a hold in Minho's shirt, daringly pressing their hips together. Minho's gasp huffed against Newt's mouth. He broke away and touched Newt's hands where they fisted in his shirt. "Let go."

Newt obeyed. Then his mouth went dry as Minho grabbed for his shirt and tugged it off. It was the first time Newt had ever seen Minho shirtless. He was darkly, wickedly sexy. Steely muscle flexed in his arms as he pinned Newt between them and rippled in his hard stomach. And Newt was crazy about those broad shoulders. He dropped his eyes to Minho's collarbone, a shy habit, then blinked in surprise. Minho had a tattoo. It appeared to be a lily, the black stem winding up from his ribcage and over the center of his chest; the flower rested over his heart, petals drooping gracefully. Newt wondered what it meant, but before he could ask, Minho was kissing him again.

They were a gasping, perfect mess within minutes. Newt couldn't think, not between Minho's mouth on his and his own fingertips running over bare skin. He shaped his palms to the powerful curves of Minho's shoulders, then slid them down to his chest. Minho's skin was so smooth and there was nothing but more muscle, more of his body, more more more. Newt wanted to explore all of it with his hands. He could hear Minho groan when Newt slipped his fingers over his delicious abs. But he longed to hear the dirtier sounds Minho would make if Newt's touch could find other places. Minho was what he wanted, plain and simple. Just Minho, every day, every single second.

Newt allowed Minho to grasp his own T-shirt, raised his arms and let the fabric lift over his head. He allowed Minho to run his hands over Newt's body, his arms, his chest, his sides. He allowed Minho to kiss his jaw and murmur quiet praises in his ear. He was alive, and awake, but he was also drowning, and lost. "Minho, I'm so screwed," he breathed into Minho's lips.

"Why?" Minho rasped huskily.

"Because," Newt whispered, soft in the candlelight, "I've fallen in love with you."

Minho exhaled shudderingly and trailed his nose down Newt's. "Newt," he murmured. "My Newt...I—"

Suddenly, he was interrupted by a loud, shrill sound grating into the night air. It was his cell phone, in his back pocket. Minho paused, disappointment flashing in his eyes. But Newt shook his head stubbornly and caught the back of Minho's neck. "Ignore it," he panted, pulling Minho's mouth back into his, their bodies close once more.

"It could be important—" Minho tried, then whimpered when Newt bit his bottom lip and sucked. He was quickly drawn back in again, holding Newt's waist as their kisses grew white-hot. His hands fell down, grasping the front of Newt's jeans. Newt's breath hitched when he felt them come undone.

And Minho's phone began to ring again, even more insistent this time. Growling in frustration, Minho fished his phone out of his pocket. He glanced at the screen and blew out a heavy breath. "It's work," he explained flatly. It was all too clear he was sad to be disappointing Newt, but in a way, it was endearing too. "I'm sorry. They don't call me on weekends unless it's important..." He raised apologetic, soulful eyes to Newt's face and the blonde's heart melted into a puddle.

"It's fine," Newt reassured. He ghosted his fingertips over Minho's chest, admiring the lines of the lily flower and the silver cross resting there. "I understand."

Minho climbed agilely off of the couch and stood up. Tapping something in his phone, he lifted it to his ear and turned slightly away from Newt. "Hello? Thomas? What happened?" There was a pause. His brow furrowed in thought, deep brown eyes darkening. It was like he'd instantly turned into the Minho Park everyone saw at work: sharp, clean, and focused entirely on the job at hand.

Newt thought of Minho's hands rucking his shirt up his body just seconds ago and had to hold back a grin.

"No," Minho was saying, running his fingers through his hair as he spoke to Thomas. "Thomas, I can't come over there right now...Well, tell him that then...No, not THAT...I just can't get over there tonight..."

Newt glanced out the window then and was startled to see how dark it was now. The sky was deep indigo, spotted with glowing stars, and the slice of a crescent moon. The breathtaking lights of the city buildings lit up the air like still fireworks. Between them, there was the humming traffic of the crowded streets. He should be getting home. Ignoring the way reluctance stayed in his heart, he picked up his shirt from the couch and stood up slowly. Self-conscious and shy, as usual, he blushed as he realized his jeans were still open. He buttoned them again and tugged his shirt back over his head. Smoothing his rumpled hair, he wandered over to Minho, who was facing the windows now.

Not wanting to interrupt too much, Newt looped his arms loosely around Minho's waist from behind. Tenderly kissing Minho's shoulder, he whispered, "I have to go, Min."

Minho, listening to something Thomas was saying, glanced at Newt with fondness in his gaze. "Thomas, listen, I'm busy right now. I can't talk...No, I'm doing something very important." He turned his head and pressed his lips to Newt's in a brief kiss. Newt, aware that Thomas was completely oblivious on the phone, nearly giggled like a girl. Minho was grinning dazzlingly. "Yes...Yes, I'll take care of it tomorrow...Not a problem...Okay...Bye." He hung up and put his phone back in his pocket.

"What was that about?" Newt asked conversationally.

"Work," Minho answered. He closed his hands over Newt's on his stomach. "As usual."

"Mmhm." Newt nuzzled into Minho's shoulder, inhaling the smell of skin and cologne. "I should leave."

Minho let out a sound of disappointment. "Why?" he asked softly.

"Because it's late," Newt answered. "And if I don't leave, I don't know if I can say no to you." He brushed his lips over Minho's skin, keeping it as chaste as possible.

Minho watched the blonde kissing his shoulder and shivered. He tilted his head back with a sigh. "You're such a drug, Newt," he mumbled.

Newt forced himself to turn his face away before he kept finding more skin to taste. "I have to go," he repeated, letting go of Minho's waist.

Minho turned to face the blonde and reached up to cup Newt's face with a hand. Sliding his thumb over Newt's cheek, he looked as though he wanted to say something. But then resignation fell over his expression and he remained silent. "Okay."

Newt lowered his gaze to the floor in bashfulness as Minho intertwined their fingers and led him to the door. The distance from the living room seemed incredibly long, but horribly short at the same time. Newt reveled in the feel of Minho holding his hand the entire way. When Minho let go to open the door for Newt, Newt felt a pang of hesitation. He didn't want to leave. Tomorrow, things would go back to the way they were. Work. Secrecy. Pretending that the small glances between them meant nothing. He would rather stay here, where he could be with Minho the way he'd wanted to be with him since Day One. Hiding his misgivings from Minho, Newt crossed the threshold into the hallway and smiled back at Minho. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said, with a tinge of sadness.

Minho leaned forward and stole another kiss from Newt. He rested their foreheads together. "Yeah," he murmured fondly. "I'll miss you tonight."

Newt had to look away because he was blushing again.

Minho chuckled at Newt's ruffled appearance and left one last kiss on his forehead. "Goodnight, Newt," he whispered. Then he was gone, the door closing with a slight click behind him.

Newt turned around, but instead of walking, he leaned back against the door. He remembered that he was only a personal assistant tomorrow. He remembered Minho's touch burning his skin. He closed his eyes.


	12. Chapter 12

-Here's a new chapter for you, lovely readers! Your reviews were so sweet, as usual, and I'm very grateful for you guys. I hope you enjoy this chapter, which will give a little look into more of Newt's life. Enjoy!-

"Now, really, Newt you have to tell me what's wrong. And don't try to deny it, because you've been looking like a kicked puppy all afternoon. I want to know why."

Newt, reclining in a wooden chair on a wide, back porch, shoved his fingers back through his hair. "Mommm," he groaned. "I'd really rather not have this conversation."

Mrs. Newton, perched in an identical chair, sniffed at her son's attitude. She had long, thick hair the color of dark honey, something Newt had gotten from her. But his eyes must've come from his father, because Mrs. Newton's were a striking, green-speckled hazel. They shimmered and changed to pale pink, reflecting the color of her blouse. "Well, we're having this conversation whether you like it or not," she decided imperiously.

"I'm not a kid anymore," Newt pointed out, turning his face away from her.

"I never said you were."

"You're acting like it."

"Ugh, Isaac, honey, come on."

"Please don't call me Isaac, Mom."

"I just want to know why you're so sad."

"I'm not sad."

"Tell that to your face, dear."

This argument had been going on ever since Newt had come over to visit after work that day. It was the day after his birthday, and as promised, he was here visiting his mother. He didn't mind it, at first. She lived in a huge house, with white walls on the outside and bold golden-and-red ones on the inside. The large back porch that they were sitting on now had a roof supported by posts of white wood; a set of steps led down to a gravel path to Mrs. Newton's beloved garden. Newt had liked walking through the familiar rooms and watching the sunlight dance in the curtains. The warm nostalgia felt like a welcome relief from the stress of his life.

But truth be told, it seemed as though some of that stress had followed him here. But he'd rather keep that stress to himself than share it with his mother.

"Mom, I'm absolutely fine," he tried to reassure her for the umpteenth time. He shifted his body on the chair so that he faced slightly away from her. "You can stop worrying."

"It's my job to worry," Mrs. Newton argued gently. "I'm your mother, after all." A sweet, caring smile curled her lips up.

"There's nothing for you to worry about," he returned. "I'm fine, and everything back in the city is fine, and that's it."

"Nothing wrong?" She gave him her don't-give-me-any-crap look.

"Nothing wrong." The lie was bitter on his tongue. But he refused to let it show.

She studied him skeptically, keen eyes darting over his features. Something she saw must've convinced her, at least for the moment. "All right, then." She nodded, and reclined in her chair again to stare out at the sunlit grass. There were about two minutes of silence. Then, "gotta boyfriend yet?"

"MOMMMM." Newt turned his face away from her and hid it in his hand, because his facial expression was going to betray him.

"What? I'm CURIOUS. It's not like I hear from you that often." Mrs. Newton seemed pleasantly unaffected by his outburst. Rather, she was quite cheerful. "So?"

Newt didn't take his face out of his hand. "So what?" he mumbled into his palm.

"SO, did you find any cute boys at that big company you work at?"

"MOM."

"I'm a mother, I need to know! And you're avoiding it, Isaac, which means you're hiding something."

"NO, I'M NOT."

"Now, really, I told you I was fine with you being gay."

"MOM OH MY GOD."

"You can't tell me that there isn't ONE good-looking future-son-in-law in that city."

"CAN WE NOT TALK ABOUT THIS?"

"Well, what about that one guy you saw a while back?" she asked. She squinted up at the sky, as though it had the guy's name written across it. "The one with the green hair. I know his last name was something with an S..."

Newt gaped at her incredulously then. "Steele?" he guessed, a hint of disgust in his voice.

"Yes, him!" She pointed at him, beaming. "Whatever happened to him?"

"First of all, his first name is Kyle," Newt told her. "And second of all, I dumped him because he was a narcissistic asshole."

"Language!"

"Sorry, he was just a regular asshole."

"Ugh, Newt." Mrs. Newton shot a glance up at the clouds, as though asking God for strength to deal with her son. She was disapproving at first, but gradually, her frown faded away. She fixed him with an understanding smile. "He was awful though," she admitted grudgingly.

"He was," Newt agreed, and returned her smile. As bad as some memories were, they could always be made better by someone you love.

They sat in pleasant silence then. Bees hummed in the warm air. Flowers waved from the garden and the trees rustled softly. Days like this felt beautifully long. Newt closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the chair. The sun was warm on his skin and quickly made him sleepy. He could stay here forever.

However, the peaceful quiet was soon broken by Mrs. Newton's voice again.

"What's that man you work for? The one who owns the company, I think?"

Newt's eyes remained closed by sheer force of will, but his heartbeat leapt in his chest. "His name's Minho Park," he answered, fingers tightening on the arms of the chair.

"That's right, Minho," she replied. "I think I saw him on TV once. He's a billionaire, isn't he?"

"Yes." Newt felt like there wasn't enough air to breathe all of a sudden.

"He's treats you well?"

Newt's eyes snapped open and he looked at her, fear spiking inside of him. She gazed back, seemingly casual about the whole thing. She blinked at his terrified silence. "I mean, you're his assistant, aren't you?" she asked uncertainly. "I hope he doesn't treat you like crap in that big skyscraper of his."

"O—Oh." Newt sighed a huge sigh of relief. "Yes, he does. I got a raise after the first month or so."

"Oh, that's good," she replied, nodding approvingly. Then she snuck Newt a sly grin. "I've heard he's handsome."

He was instantly on alert again, but he forced himself to remain calm. "I suppose."

"What do you mean, you suppose?" she asked, laughing. "I've talked to all of my friends about your job, and they all say he's gorgeous. I'm surprised you haven't noticed."

Oh, he'd noticed all right. He still had dreams about every exquisite line of Minho's tattoo on bare skin. "Maybe he's just not my type," he said with a forced shrug.

"Not your type?" she echoed. "He's rich, famous, and good-looking. I thought that was anyone's type."

An uncomfortable feeling was clawing its way under Newt's skin now. It was the same ugly feeling he felt when that blonde woman had called him Minho's errand boy. "I don't think I wanna talk about him anymore, Mom," he muttered.

"Why not?" Her voice rang with surprise. "Did something happen at work?"

No, but something almost happened in Minho's living room the other day. Newt shook his head.

"What's wrong, then?" she asked.

"Nothing," he mumbled, sliding his gaze away from hers.

"It can't be nothing if you won't even look at me."

"Trust me, okay? It's nothing."

"...please, honey." The concern in her words was killing him.

Newt looked at her then, and saw the hurt written across her features, along with the worry for him. She really cared. But of course she did; she was his mother, who had known him since he was born, picked him up when he fell of his bike, and sang lullabies when he was scared. She'd held him while he cried, at age thirteen, after he'd been bullied at school for having a crush on a guy. For being himself. She would understand, wouldn't she? This couldn't be that bad...

Newt exhaled, long and almost sad. "It's him," he confessed softly.

Mrs. Newton's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"You asked me if I had boyfriend," he explained slowly. "It's him. It's Minho."

Her jaw dropped in shock. She gaped at him and he felt even worse about what he'd gotten himself into. "You're—" She glanced around as though afraid someone would overhear, and leaned in closer. "You're dating your BOSS?"

"...yes," he admitted, his voice small now.

"Oh. Oh my." She sat back in her chair again. "For how long?"

He shrugged, keeping his gaze fixed on his shoes. "A while." Then, knowing how that sounded, he added, "over a month now."

"I see." Mrs. Newton rested her hands on the arms of her chair, then they flitted like scared birds to clasp in her lap. Her hazel eyes were troubled.

The sight of her disapproval made Newt feel even more miserable about the whole situation. Now, here under her judging gaze, he saw how hopeless he and Minho were. How had they ever expected this to work? How had they EVER expected to someday be free, out in the public? He swallowed. "I understand that you might not like it."

"It's not that I don't...like it," she replied carefully. "But...you do realize that it's a bit inappropriate, don't you? If anyone were ever to find out, you'd be a in some trouble."

"I know," he sighed.

"Every choice he made at work would be questioned," she went on. "Everyone would think he was only doing something for you because, well, you're together."

He shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "I realize that."

"I hope so. I hate to see you in a situation like this, Newt." She twiddled her thumbs absently.

"I know," he repeated, quiet and feeling faintly scolded for some reason.

After a moment or two, she ventured to speak again. There was something troubling in her tone though. "You wouldn't...you wouldn't consider ending it with him, would you?"

Newt's reaction was immediate. His fingertips dug into the wood of the chair and it was like someone had dumped ice water down his back. "No," he answered at once. "I wouldn't."

Mrs. Newton made a frustrated sound. "I know you care about him," she began, "but you need to think about what this could mean for—"

"I'm in love with him."

Her head jerked up then, and her lips parted as she stared at her son. "What?" she asked.

"I didn't mean to," Newt mumbled gloomily, "but I fell in love with him. Sometimes, I think I was in love with him from the very beginning."

His mother gazed at him silently. Something in her expression was shifting though. "You really care about this man, don't you?" she asked gently.

He didn't trust the ache forming in his throat, so he nodded.

"...well then." She took a breath and then let it out with an air of finality. "I suppose there's nothing I can do to stop you then." Newt raised his head in surprise; there was a smile on his mother's face. She reached over and closed her hand over Newt's. "I'm happy you finally found someone, honey."

Newt struggled not to let his foolish, lovestruck joy show, but it was hard. He ducked his head to hide a silly grin. He really had fallen hard for his boss. But at least, he didn't have to keep it a secret alone.

"Thanks, Mom."

-x-x-x-


	13. Chapter 13

-Here it is, another new chapter! Thanks so much if you left a review. They really made my day. I hope you like this one and don't worry because there's more Minewt love coming ;)-

"Newt? I know you're not gonna answer the phone, so I'm leaving a message. Assuming you're not dead later, I'm going to leave some medicine and my favorite chicken-noodle soup by your door. I hope you get better soon! Okay, bye!" Teresa's voice cut off abruptly, ending her message on Newt's voicemail. He sighed and twisted in bed to drop his phone onto the bedside table again. Then he went back to dying.

Well, that is, he FELT like he was dying.

The horrible case of the flu had come on pretty fast. It had happened right after he'd visited his mother, so when she called to see how he was feeling, he blamed her. She'd just laughed and told him he might want to blame the other person he'd been kissing lately. She was still laughing at her own cleverness when he hung up.

Anyway, so here he was, sprawled out in bed, missing work, and feeling like crap. He'd already thrown up two times this morning and it sucked. He had a full-blown case of nausea now and his head was killing him. A glass of water and some pills were scattered on the bedside table next to his phone. He was waiting impatiently for the painkillers to kick in. The thin sheets felt all too restricting all of a sudden, probably because of the heat of his fever. Groaning, he kicked the sheets off and flopped over onto his back. Now only in a pair of briefs, he tried to find sleep. He closed his eyes until all he could see was the slice of sunlight filtering between his closed curtains. It looked dark red behind his eyelids.

"Being sick sucks," he muttered, throwing an arm across his face to block out any light. That chicken-noodle soup Teresa had talked about sounded good, but every time he thought of eating, his stomach protested angrily. So he decided that idea could wait until later. Skin burning and his stomach roiling, he searched for the painlessness of dreams.

"...you don't look so good."

The voice came from across the room, near where his door would be. Newt yelped and shoved himself into a sitting position so fast, his head spun. He gawked in astonishment at the man standing at the doorway to his room, looking wary and concerned. There was no mistaking that coal-black hair or powerful figure. "Minho?!" Newt looked down at himself and squeaked in embarrassment. Raking the covers back up to his chest, he clutched them there, and gaped at Minho again. "What're you...How'd you know where I live?" he asked, still stammering.

Minho scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "You've described the place before, so I kinda just looked until I found a crazy girl in the hallway who knew you," he explained.

Newt sighed. "Teresa?"

"Teresa." Minho smiled fondly.

"I gotta tell her to stop scarring people when they come to visit me," Newt muttered. Minho laughed, and the sound made Newt's body tingle all over. He shook that silly thought away. "So...what're you doing here?" he asked uncertainly. "I thought you had work."

He asked because this was a weekday and Minho was NOT wearing a suit and tie. The billionaire looked incredibly edible in a pair of faded jeans and a black T-shirt. The chain for the silver cross glinted around his neck, but the rest of it was hidden under his shirt. Minho shrugged with a shoulder. "I did," he confessed. "But then you called in sick and...I don't know. I'd rather stay here with you. Take care of you." He seemed chagrined to admit it. "I left you a message earlier, telling you I was coming. I'm not sure you got it."

Newt hung his head in embarrassment. "I was probably too busy throwing up when you sent it," he muttered.

Minho grimaced. "The flu?"

Newt grunted in reply.

"Everybody's starting to get that." Minho crossed the room as he spoke and took a seat at the edge of the bed.

Newt instinctively turned his body, clinging to his sheets so that he was still hidden. Yes, he was sick. But he was still wearing only his underwear and this was Minho, his boss, his boyfriend. He watched as the mattress dipped under Minho's weight and even though they weren't touching, their closeness still sent sparks across his skin. Then Minho reached up, gently brushing the rumpled hair off of Newt's forehead, and Newt sighed blissfully. He closed his eyes as Minho's touch travelled down his cheek, featherlight and almost-teasing. Without thinking, he turned his head and brushed a kiss to Minho's palm. He heard Minho's soft growl. "I hate that you're sick," he murmured.

Newt opened his eyes again. "Why?" he asked.

"Because I want nothing more than to kiss you right now." Minho dropped his hand down to pull lightly at the sheets around Newt's neck. "And I'm dying to see what you're wearing under this again."

Newt ducked his head bashfully, unable to handle it when Minho said such things. "I hate being sick too," he replied quietly.

"So get better," Minho teased. Then he snickered as Newt batted his shoulder scoldingly.

Newt was about to laugh too, but it dissolved into a miserable groan. He held his head with a hand, wincing under a throbbing headache. Minho was there at once, pushing the bangs back off Newt's forehead soothingly. Tenderly, he set his hands on Newt's shoulders and helped him sink back into bed again. Newt turned the side of his face into the pillow, balling the sheets up under his chin. His head was aching horribly now. He really HATED being sick. Blinking up at Minho, he inhaled shakily as his boyfriend continued to stroke his hair.

"Want me to get you an ice-pack or something?" Minho asked. "Medicine, maybe?"

Newt gave a small nod. "Ice-pack's in the freezer," he told him, voice shuddering under the pain in his head. He stared as Minho stood up immediately, heading back out of the bedroom to the kitchen. Did he really care about Newt that much? Would he really do all of this for him, any day that he needed it? Newt burrowed deeper into the mattress and covers. Sometimes, he wasn't so sure. Newt had confessed that he was in love with Minho. But Minho had never said anything like it back. What if he saw their relationship as a temporary thing, something he knew he'd be ending later? Newt cringed at the thought. He wouldn't survive it.

It was only a few minutes before Minho was back in the room again, carrying an ice-pack wrapped in a cloth. Newt's worries were momentarily forgotten when Minho perched on the bed again and pressed the ice-pack to his forehead. The coolness felt wonderful on his fever-burned skin, chasing the headache away. Newt let out a long breath of relief. "Thanks, Min," he murmured.

Minho left the ice-pack balanced on Newt's head and went back to smoothing the blonde's hair. "I love that nickname," he remarked absently.

Newt felt his heart swell, but then the bitterness and worry returned. He swallowed nervously. "Minho?"

"Hm?" Minho carded his fingers through Newt's hair again.

"When...um...when can we tell people? About us?" Newt waited with pounding heart for the answer.

Minho's hand stilled. He studied Newt's expression for a long moment. Something seemed to flicker in his eyes. He sighed, shaking his head. "I don't know, Newt," he replied. "I don't know if we'll ever be able to, without risking—"

"Your job," Newt cut him off bitterly.

Minho turned his face away with a rough exhale. "Can we not do this now?"

"Why?" Newt asked challengingly. He knew he was being immature, but he couldn't stop himself.

"Don't do this, Newt."

"You're so much more worried about work than me. About what other people will think of you."

"You know it's not like that."

"Then what? What is it then?"

"I have to worry about my work. I'm responsible for the entire company. If they knew that I was seeing my personal assistant, they'd question everything I did."

Newt hated that he was right, because that was exactly what his mother had said yesterday. "Well, what about this?" he asked softly. Minho turned to look at him again, a new emotion in his gaze. "What about us?"

"I can't let myself..." Minho trailed off, as though he didn't want to think about the end of that sentence.

Newt guessed what would've been said though, and it hurt. It hurt a lot more than he'd expected it would. "What about everything that happened between us?" he asked in a murmur.

Minho stared at him silently. Every feeling for Newt was written across his face, brimming in his eyes. He cared. But did he care enough? He seemed to search for words, lips parting. But then he stiffened as Newt gathered his arms under himself and sat up. The ice-pack was left on the mattress. The sheets slipped unnoticed down to Newt's waist, but he didn't bother with them anymore. With trembling fingers, he snagged the neckline of Minho's tee, baring a flash of collarbone. His index finger hooked around the chain and the silver cross fell out onto Minho's chest. "What about everything we've done?" Newt asked.

"You know that I care about you," Minho murmured. "And you know that what we have means something to me, means more than you know. But..."

"But what?" Newt's gaze darted over Minho's face imploringly.

Minho took the hand curled in his T-shirt and lifted it away. He interlaced their fingers, looking at them as though marveling in Newt's touch. "But I've never been in love," he whispered, a hushed confession hanging in the air between them. "The things I do when I'm with you...when you touch me..." He kissed Newt's knuckles, eyelids slipping shut. "...I've never experienced it before. I don't understand it. I've tried so hard not to give in to others and to focus only on running my business. But you make me forget that." The barest trace of a smile flitted across his lips. "I find myself wanting to give in to you."

Newt didn't speak. He'd never thought of it like that before. He'd assumed that Minho knew how to deal with everything, because that was the impression he gave others. But it wasn't true, of course it wasn't true. Nobody was prepared to deal with everything. Newt hadn't considered the fact that Minho didn't understand being in love. He must've been solely committed to his business for so long that he'd forgotten that he could feel things for other people. Newt was suddenly struck by a new thought then. He glanced at Minho with new puzzlement. "Minho," he began slowly, "have you ever been IN a relationship before me?"

It was an absurd thought. Surely the famous, good-looking Minho Park had had a boyfriend before. Even a high school flame that died out. But Minho shook his head. "No," he admitted, rubbing his thumb over the back of Newt's hand. "You're my first."

Newt didn't know what to say. It felt strangely honoring, to be the only person in the world to win Minho's heart. He understood now, why Minho found it hard to show his feelings or to even feel anything at all. Sure, it bothered him that they couldn't show their affection for each other. But he could wait. It would be worth it. He knew it would. So he snorted disbelievingly, startling Minho. "I find that hard to believe," he deadpanned. A smile appeared on his lips.

Minho smiled back, relieved. Cupping Newt's face with a hand, he murmured, "soon."


	14. Chapter 14

-Tiny chapter! You're welcome ;) anyway, yes, this is really short because I don't know, I just wanted to throw a short chapter in here. The next one will be longer, I promise. I hope you all enjoy it and thanks again for the wonderful reviews. Until next time!-

The following week, at work, Newt was crossing through the lobby when he thought he saw that blonde woman again; he'd learned from Minho that her name was Diana. She wasn't at her desk at the front, the way she normally was. She was standing at the side of it, next to a girl with a sheet of cherry-red hair. They shared the same crimson lips and icy eyes. They sent him strange, suspicious glances as he passed by, leaning closer together.

The way they whispered in each other's ears made a pang of nervousness slither its way down his spine.

-x-x-x-

"I'm glad to see you're feeling better."

The words were harmless, but the way that smooth voice worked its way around them made shivers skitter over Newt's skin. He tried to keep his face neutral as he stood beside the sleek ebony of Minho's desk. Anyone could walk in at any time. He had to be careful if they were going to play this game. He continued to rifle through a folder of papers, pretending to read over them even as the sentences blurred before his eyes. "Thank you," he nearly-mumbled, feeling the presence of Minho by the windows behind him. The office was huge, with floor-to-ceiling windows at the back and a dusky-colored interior. The desk was large and beautifully made, and the double doors at the front were constantly knocked on by employees with questions and news.

Newt couldn't see Minho, but he heard the shift of a footstep. "I have an important meeting tonight," Minho said conversationally.

"Oh?" Newt tried in vain to force some intrigue into his voice. He'd rather have Minho with him tonight. "With who?"

"Financial advisors," Minho answered. There was a soft sound then, like he was adjusting his tie or straightening his jacket.

Newt folded another page in the folder over, the whiteness crisp under his fingertips. "Interesting," he commented with a bit of humor. "Looking forward to it?"

Minho scoffed unexpectedly. "It's going to be incredibly boring."

Newt allowed himself to give a small laugh, though if other people were there, he wouldn't have dared. "You sound enthusiastic."

"Please. Every time I go to these things, I'm lucky if I don't try to kill myself by the end of them."

"I'll wish you luck then."

There was a funny little pause, as though Minho was thinking of saying something he shouldn't. Newt heard him take a breath. "You won't have to."

Newt's brow furrowed in puzzlement, though he didn't turn around. "Why not?" he asked.

"Because I canceled it," Minho replied, seemingly unbothered by this information.

Newt's fingers stilled on the papers. Minho had canceled a meeting? With his advisors? That couldn't have gone over too well. He tried to come up with a reason why Minho would do this, when Minho gave him the reason anyway. Newt froze when he heard footsteps approaching him from behind. His heart nearly stopped when he felt the warmth of body heat right up against his back. Someone touched his arm with a slight, meaningful pressure. When he felt Minho's breath fan over his neck, his eyes fluttered shut. "I didn't want us to have any distractions tonight," Minho whispered, his hair slipping over Newt's.

Newt's body had stopped working. He was unable to move. When Minho spoke, there was the tiniest trace of his lips grazing Newt's ear. "I... Minho..." Newt trailed off.

"What?" Minho asked in a hushed murmur. The hand that wasn't on Newt's arm wandered its way down Newt's back.

"We're at work," Newt protested weakly, a coy smile creeping into his words.

"I know." Minho's palm burned into the small of Newt's back. He brushed his lips over Newt's ear. "But you look so stunning; how am I supposed to resist you?" Bold, he kissed the sensitive place behind Newt's ear. Newt released a soft sigh, knowing how dangerous this was, but not caring at the moment. Minho sucked on the place he'd kissed before and Newt dropped his head back onto Minho's shoulder with a whimper. Minho's lips traced his jaw then, making Newt desperately wish that they weren't at work.

"Min," Newt breathed, turning his face into the crook of Minho's neck. Fingers cradled his chin, tilting his face upward, and Minho touched their lips together. It was the smallest, softest kiss they'd ever shared. Newt felt it the whole way down to his toes, tingling over his nerves. When it ended, Minho whispered into Newt's lips, "you're mine."

Newt leaned up for more of Minho's addictive kisses, but suddenly, they both heard the insistent knock on the doors. Newt tore himself away from Minho, hating how much willpower it took. Minho backed away from him, his breaths unsteady. He took a moment to compose himself before he called a slightly-strained, "come in."

The doors opened, revealing a businessman like all the others and Newt listened to the meaningless conversation that followed. He held on to the thought that tonight he'd be with Minho.


	15. Chapter 15

-Hey, my awesome readers! Seriously, you guys are awesome though; 88 reviews and counting, not to mention the views this story has. Thank you so much for the support. It really keeps me going :) And here we are, more Minewt love for all of you! Enjoy and let me know whatcha think!-

Newt drove straight to Minho's after work, taking a bit of a roundabout route so he wouldn't draw too much attention. The soaring walls that greeted him had become so familiar now and it warmed his heart to think of this place as his second home. Loosening his tie as he walked down the hallway, he felt his heart tighten in a strange half-happiness, half-hurt. He cared about Minho too much. Maybe he cared about Minho more than Minho cared about him. The thought still bothered him, because how could it not?

Newt glanced up at the afternoon light spilling in endlessly from the windows in the living room. The ceiling was impossibly high above him, so high that by the time the sunlight reached it, it had turned from vibrant orange to creamy gold. "Minho?" he called, not wanting to venture too far inside yet.

"I'm here," his boss called back, and when Newt emerged into the living room, he spotted him. Minho was just coming down from that spiral of stairs, lips curling up when he saw Newt. He still had on the black pants and white shirt he wore at work. But the shirt sleeves were rolled to his elbows and there was no tie; at least four buttons were undone at his collar. The silver cross winked at his throat. He walked right up to Newt and took the blonde in his arms. His exhale tickled Newt's neck. "I've been waiting all day to hold you like this," Minho mumbled against Newt's shoulder.

Newt laughed breathlessly as he hugged back. "What's the occasion?" he asked playfully. "You wanted me to come over so fast..."

"You'll see." There was a grin in Minho's words. Stepping back out of Newt's embrace, he backed toward the stairs. He pointed at Newt's jacket and tie. "Take some of that crap off; I can't stand wearing this stuff all day. And follow me."

Newt obeyed, shedding the tie and jacket, and shoving his sleeves up afterward. Trailing after Minho, his eyes widened in surprise as Minho began to ascend the stairs again. "Wait, we're going upstairs?" he asked dumbly.

"Of course," Minho chuckled, pausing and glancing down at him. He had one hand on the metal railing, a gleam in his eyes as he waited patiently for Newt to follow. "I've never showed you up here, have I?"

"No." Newt shook his head.

"Well, I wanted to show you today." Minho sobered more then, losing a fraction of his play. "Not even Charleston, my driver, has been up here. No one else who works for me either. Only me."

Newt shifted his feet. "You trust me that much?"

Minho's shoulders sagged a little. "Yes."

Feeling like he was breaking rules, Newt took the railing in his hand and started up the stairs.

"Oh...this is..." Beautiful. Elegant. Intimate, in a way. Those were the only words for it. Newt was looking at a marvelously-designed bedroom, with an expensive, sleek stereo system at one wall. The desk and bedside table were made from polished, rich-colored wood. There was a closed, closet door in a discreet corner. The bed was much too big for one person and piled with pillows and sheets like black satin. The one wall was like the one downstairs, completely made of windows. It gave a spectacular view of the gleaming, silver city.

The upstairs layout was so open and airy. It was lovely to walk in it. Newt spotted a short hall, and a door waiting at the end of it. A bathroom, probably, and just as wonderful as this, he was sure. He took tentative steps into the room, noting how the floor was now plush carpet under his feet. Minho was off to the side by the speakers, hands slung in his pockets. "What do you think?" he asked, maybe with a hint of nervousness.

"I think you're a lot richer than I realized," Newt joked. He skimmed his fingertips over the bedsheets as he passed, slowly heading toward those windows. The way the sinking sun ignited the city was drawing him closer. "Why did you want me to see this?"

"It's the only place in the house with a decent stereo system." Minho had barely finished speaking before he touched something on that system. Instantly, slow, sweet music—the kind with the soft hum of piano—flooded from the speakers. Newt, silhouetted by the windows, glanced over his shoulder in slow realization. Minho smiled. "Have you ever danced with someone, Newt?"

Newt rolled his eyes up at the ceiling. "No, never even tried," he confessed. "I'm an awful dancer."

"Good," Minho replied in amusement. "It'll make me feel better about my awful dancing."

Newt huffed in disbelief, but his humor fell away when Minho crossed the room to him. Still with that smile playing on his lips, Minho held out his hand. "Dance with me?"

Newt bit his lip hesitantly, but his hand found its way into Minho's anyway. Gently, Minho drew him close, placing his hands chastely at Newt's waist. Newt linked his hands at the back of Minho's neck, his stomach swimming with butterflies. It was true that he had never slow-danced before and he didn't want to screw it up in front of Minho. Minho was patient though, guiding Newt into the movements easily. Soon, it wasn't awkward or strange at all. It was new and beautiful. Newt never wanted to stop.

They danced slowly, moving together as though they'd been doing this for years. Even Newt, who managed not to trip over his own feet. He let himself sink into it, the soft rocking back and forth, the sound of piano in the background. Minho was an excellent dancer, but why wouldn't he be, if he was so good at everything else? The lowering sun threw streaks of orange and red across them as they danced closer to the windows. Minho slipped his hands farther around Newt to rest them at the small of his back. Closing his eyes, he leaned his forehead against Newt's. "What are you doing to me?" he whispered.

Newt lowered his eyes down to Minho's collarbone. "What does it mean?" he asked abruptly, keeping his voice down as though afraid to break the quiet. "Your tattoo?"

Minho let out a soft sound of laughter. "I was waiting for you to ask that," he murmured, "ever since I showed you it." He opened his eyes to look into Newt's, holding his gaze in the space between them. "Everyone expects me to be this...hard, strong person, running the entire business and never showing any softness. I got the tattoo when I first started taking over where my father left off. I chose something that was fragile, the exact opposite of what people think of me. I had it put over my heart, to remind myself not to get lost in what other people think I am." He reached up and coaxed a strand of hair out of Newt's eyes. "I didn't want to lose myself."

Newt didn't speak. There wasn't any need for words then. But he did draw himself closer and tipped his chin up, so that their lips could meet. Minho paused in the dancing and cupped Newt's face with a hand as they kissed. It was just like dancing, slow and languid. Newt could still hear the piano as he slipped his fingers into the hair at the back of Minho's head. And when Minho's hands skimmed to the collar of Newt's shirt, he knew this was it for him. There wasn't going to be anyone else.

Minho's fingers skillfully began undoing the buttons of Newt's shirt, moving down to his stomach. When he had tugged the hem of Newt's shirt out of his waistband, he carefully pushed the fabric off of Newt's shoulders. Newt sighed, long and quiet, and let the sleeves slip the rest of the way off. He didn't care where it landed because he was busy helping Minho get his own shirt open. Pulling back from the kiss for a moment, Newt watched in faint awe as the delicate cross appeared by Minho's collarbone, then the lines of the lily on his chest, and then the strong ripple of his stomach. When Minho's shirt was gone, he was kissing Newt again and backing him up into the room.

Through a haze of drunkenness, Newt managed to get out of his shoes before the backs of his knees met the edge of Minho's bed. Ever-careful, Minho sank them back onto it, the press of the mattress against Newt's back. Newt's breath hitched as Minho's fingertips traced down his body to his waistband. When Newt didn't protest, Minho hooked his fingers into Newt's belt and had it unbuckled in seconds. He did the same to Newt's pants. Newt was shivering now, splaying his hands over Minho's back. He trusted Minho, he told himself a million times. Minho had shown him a side of himself that no one had ever seen. Surely, Newt could do the same.

He trusted Minho.

He loved Minho.

Insistent hands pulled his pants down his legs. Newt lifted his hips to help get them off. In a moment of bravery, he grinned and tugged at Minho's belt. "Your turn," he murmured, blue eyes glimmering.

Minho smiled briefly and obediently undid his belt buckle. It didn't take him very long, with Newt's help, to get his waistband down and then off. Then he was pinning Newt underneath him and kissing him again. Newt kneaded his fingers up the strong expanse of Minho's back, eyes drifting closed. Minho parted Newt's lips with his own and let the kiss deepen until Newt was dizzy. Their legs slotted together as Minho bent over him. He kissed the corner of Newt's mouth, then his jaw, making his way down to the curve of Newt's neck. Newt tilted his head back as Minho trailed tiny kisses down the side of his throat until he reached his collarbone. He grazed his teeth lightly over the skin, making Newt release a breathy sigh. He dipped his tongue into the hollow at the base of his throat, and Newt whimpered weakly.

Exhaling blissfully, Minho nuzzled into Newt's neck. He whispered very softly, "I love you, Isaac Newton."

Newt had never felt the way he felt then. It was as though he knew that he had everything he'd ever need now, now that Minho had given him this last piece of himself. I've broken you, he thought, piece by piece, and now you're mine.

Lacing his fingers through Minho's hair, Newt wasted no time in grazing his lips along Minho's jaw. He nudged Minho's chin up and the billionaire gave a small sound as Newt kissed at the warm skin of his neck. Newt could feel the coolness of the chain around Minho's neck, the cross hanging between them, glittering in the fading sunlight. His fingers moved on their own, sliding over the lily tattoo and around to Minho's back again. Minho suddenly brought his head down again, capturing Newt's lips in a hot, needy kiss. With a low hum of pleasure, Newt slipped his tongue past Minho's lips to taste more of that wicked sweetness. Minho groaned from the back of his throat and the sound trapped itself in Newt's mouth.

"You're beautiful," Minho mumbled between desperate kisses. "I don't say it enough, but you're gorgeous, Newt." Newt bit at his bottom lip and Minho whined out loud.

Daringly, Newt looped his legs around Minho's waist, addicted to the feel of their skin together. Before he could stop himself, he was rolling his hips up into Minho's. Minho gasped, fingers tightening in the sheets. He ground his hips down against Newt's again and Newt moaned, digging his fingertips into Minho's shoulder blades. His breaths were coming faster now, and he was embarrassed that Minho could hear them, but he couldn't stop. Nothing had ever felt the way that this felt. His skin jolted with sparks when he felt Minho's sure fingers curling around his thighs; Minho eased Newt's legs from around his waist and back onto the mattress beneath him. Sliding his palms up Newt's thighs, he dipped his thumbs into the waistband of Newt's boxers. Then he paused like that, his thumbs putting a light pressure on Newt's hips.

"Before I do...anything else..." Minho had never been like this before, his voice breaking with his strained hold on self-control. "I have to know that you're sure," he finished, searching Newt's gaze. "I'd never force anything on you, Newt. I won't do this if you don't want me to. But if you want me—"

"I want you," Newt interrupted, hands shaking at Minho's waist. "I want you, Minho."

Minho blinked, and then a brief smile quirked his mouth. He left a featherlight kiss on Newt's lips and murmured, "okay."

Then he was slowly peeling Newt's clothing from his hips, down his legs. Newt hadn't been so vulnerable in front of anyone before and it made a shudder crawl its way down his spine. He let out a shaky breath as Minho got the fabric off of Newt's ankles and tossed it away. Then he couldn't breathe at all, because now Minho was hooking his fingers into his own boxers. Bracing himself up on his elbows, Newt was caught in the slow flex of muscle as Minho almost-shyly slipped out of his clothing. Minho's body was utter perfection in the dim late-evening light, marked only by his beautiful, winding tattoo. Newt ached to learn every inch of it. As Minho drew nearer to him again, Newt stretched out to catch the back of his neck. Pulling Minho to him, he brought his mouth to Minho's shoulder as the billionaire slid over him again in bed.

Minho sighed sharply as their bodies brushed together, the cracks in his composure growing. Newt's mouth moved along his shoulder, raising goosebumps and Minho's fingers searched for an anchor in the rumpled sheets. When teeth scraped over the curve there, Minho whimpered. Bowing his face into Newt's neck, he shivered as the blonde tortured him with scorching kisses. "N—Newt," he stammered, nosing at the soft feathers of golden hair. "I need you, now."

Newt rested his lips against the juncture of Minho's neck and shoulder, breathing in that lovely scent that could drive him wild. Very slowly, he ran his nose up along Minho's neck to his ear; he listened reverently to Minho's tiny, pleasured sound when he sucked at his earlobe. "Than you can have me," he whispered, breath playing over Minho's ear.

Minho's pants grew heavier, needier. Sitting up, he was grabbing Newt's legs before he could stop himself and slipping himself between them. Newt's head spun, hardly able to believe that he had reduced Minho to this. Rubbing his thumbs briefly over Newt's thighs, Minho carefully rolled his hips forward. Then he was finally pushing into Newt for the first time. Newt's spine arched upward, head dropping back at the stars that cartwheeled across his vision. A long broken moan ripped its way out of his throat as his hands clawed into the sheets.

Minho ducked down to kiss Newt's mouth, just a fleeting touch, before he was studying Newt's expression. "Are you...Are you okay?" he asked hoarsely. "Do you want to stop?"

The caring in Minho's eyes was too much and overwhelming love brimmed in Newt's chest. He managed a wobbly smile. "I'm okay," he reassured. "It's just...I've never..." He trailed off with an embarrassed lowering of his eyes.

"Neither have I," Minho murmured, smoothing a hand over Newt's hair. It was the first time he'd ever been uncertain about anything. "S—so let's go slow, okay?"

Newt nodded once. As controlled as he could, Minho pulled back and then pressed his hips forward into Newt again. The pleasure that lit up Newt's body made a choked sound get caught in his throat. He could feel the pressure of Minho's fingers on his hips and the mattress against his back, and everything was too much. When Minho slid into him again, he couldn't hold back the obscene sounds he made. A hot flush crept up his neck. He hadn't imagined that it would be like this: flames eating up his insides, the craving for more of their bodies together, swimming and falling and drowning. His eyes closed on their own, lips parting under the pressure of Minho's body against his.

"More," Newt pleaded, the word a whisper suspended in the darkening room.

Minho made a rough, broken sound then. He rocked his body so hard into Newt's that it made Newt let out a weak cry of pleasure. He had no time to feel embarrassed because Minho was grinding into him again, and again, each time more mind-numbing than the last. They were a hopeless tangle of skin slipping over skin and sharp gasps in a lonely room. Minho bent down to capture Newt's lips, kissing him with a need he hadn't shown before. Pulling back, he continued to trail his lips down Newt's throat, his movements ragged. Groaning, he tasted the line of Newt's collarbone, teeth insistently working to leave pinkish marks. Newt scrabbled to grab at Minho's waist, wanting only more of the ecstasy this was giving him.

"Minho," he breathed out, head falling back as Minho rocked their bodies together again and pushed Newt up the mattress.

Falling apart, moving faster, Minho kissed at Newt's chest. "I love you," he mumbled for the second time that night. "Newt, God, I love you."

Making love for the first time, with the only person in the world he would ever need, Newt thought that he'd never tire of hearing those words.


	16. Chapter 16

-Here we go! This chapter is kinda short, but some important, fluffy stuff happens, haha. Thank you very much for the thoughtful reviews. They still mean so much to me, you don't even know. Hope you enjoy more of this Minewt! (I know I enjoyed writing it...XD) ;)-

In the dark of night, when the moon was only halfway across the sky, Newt woke from sluggish dreams. At first, he couldn't make out where he was. Surely those weren't his soaring walls, his windows showing a glorious, star-flecked sky, or his lavish, large bed. No, no they weren't. He blinked groggily, wondering what had woken him and where he was. When he reached up to push the bangs out of his face, he knew at once that his hair was a mess. He also knew from the heat of his skin that someone was next to him. Squinting in the moonlight, he looked at the person beside him. Body stiffening, the memories came rushing back.

Minho was stretched out beside him, one hand thrown carelessly across Newt's waist. The covers had slipped off his shoulder, showing the strong sweep of it in the silvery light. His black hair was an adorably rumpled mess and his eyelashes twitched slightly as he dreamed. Newt was caught in the way Minho's chest rose and fell softly as he slept. Nothing had ever looked so beautiful. Enraptured, Newt lightly traced a fingertip along the line of the lily tattoo's stem, stopping at Minho's ribs. The skin was warm to the touch. As was the rest of the skin pressed up against Newt's side.

Newt then fully understood what had happened between them. A shudder crawled down his spine. He'd given himself up to Minho. There wasn't going to be any second thoughts for him. He needed Minho the way he needed air. It hurt, because he knew that they were still a secret, that nothing they were here could be shown anywhere else. They were good people, as friends, they worked well together. But like this, they were something so much more.

Newt wanted to be that all the time. He wanted to tell everyone that Minho was his. His chest ached and he sighed in the dark. Why did this have to be so hard?

"I love you," he whispered, because he'd never said it yet.

Minho, fast asleep, didn't answer.

-x-x-x-

Morning found Newt still in the same bed, sprawled out under the covers. Though this time, there was honeyed sunlight falling across him and he wasn't the first person to wake up. He DID wake up, however, when he felt a fingertip run teasingly down his nose. "Newt...Wake up, love...It's morning..." The voice was husky with sleep and heartbreakingly smooth. Newt recognized it at once, but the pull of sleep was still too much for him to open his eyes. He grunted a muffled syllable into the pillow, turning to mash half of his face into it. Another fingertip traced over his cheekbone. "C'mon, Newt," the voice went on playfully. "You can't sleep all day long...I wanna see those beautiful eyes..." Newt snorted out loud then, prompting a chuckle from the smooth voice. "Don't make me drag you out of this bed. Because I will do it."

Newt grinned and gave in, opening his eyes. Minho's face appeared above him, half a smile on his lips and a softness in his gaze. "There they are," he murmured, smoothing over Newt's eyebrows with his thumb. "They look so much bluer in the morning..."

Newt groaned in mock despair and squished his face further into the pillow. "You're such a cheesy moron," he muttered, hoping Minho couldn't see how his ears burned red.

Minho chuckled again, and ghosted a sweet kiss to the curve of Newt's ear. "Yes," he agreed, blowing lightly on Newt's ear, prompting a full-body shiver. "But I'm your cheesy moron, aren't I?"

"Yeah," Newt admitted. "I guess you are." He finally turned his head from the pillow to look up at Minho. He couldn't stand how stunning the billionaire looked right now, so he reached up to trail a finger along Minho's bicep. It was lovely to see Minho's eyes go foggy at the touch. "You know what's great?" he asked quietly.

Minho smiled and slid one hand down Newt's arm, bare above the sheets. "What?"

"How much I love you."

Minho sighed softly. "I've waited so long to hear you say that," he whispered.

Newt returned Minho's shining grin, feeling the rightness, the joy of it all. There was something about waking up next to Minho that made his heart want to grow wings. He'd kinda felt like it already had. He wondered how he could say this to Minho without sounding horribly romantic, when suddenly, Minho's arm snaked sneakily around Newt's waist. "Wha—?" Newt was interrupted by Minho's hand pressing to his lower back and hauling him across the mattress. Their chests bumped together, Newt's eyes level with Minho's chin. Newt swallowed at the brush of their skin together and the way Minho was looking at him with those dark eyes.

Minho smirked. "You don't know, do you?" he asked playfully, free hand twirling strands of Newt's hair on the pillow.

"Know what?" Newt asked. His hands were planted automatically on Minho's chest, but whether he was planning on pulling closer or pushing away, he didn't know.

"That you're just as tempting to me as the day I first saw you." Minho kissed Newt's forehead as he spoke, feather-soft. His lips lingered, moving lower to the bridge of Newt's nose.

Newt studied his hands on Minho's chest bashfully. "I don't know about that," he replied disbelievingly. His breath hitched a little as Minho kept tracing kisses down his nose, making him angle his head up.

"It's true," Minho said absently. He kissed the tip of Newt's nose and moved on to the corner of his mouth. "You had me the moment you walked in."

Newt's mind struggled to cling to the conversation. Minho's lips were touching his jaw now, as Minho had shifted lower in bed to reach more of Newt's skin with his mouth. "What—what did you think, when you first met me?"

"I thought that no one had a right to look like you did," Minho whispered. "With blue eyes and blonde hair that I wanted to run my fingers through. You made me forget who I was for a second and what I was doing. All I wanted to know was your name."

Newt nosed Minho's hair, now at eye-level with it as Minho was kissing down his neck. "Isaac," he told him jokingly.

"Newt," Minho corrected with a half-smile. He mouthed along Newt's collarbone, issuing a gasp, and stopped at his shoulder. "My Newt."

Newt's fingertips dug into Minho's chest for some kind of support. "Min, I don't think we should...er...I know it's the weekend, but I already slept in and I have to..." Minho ran his tongue along the line of Newt's collarbone and Newt bit back his moan. "...d—don't you have a meeting or something?"

"Later," Minho hummed into Newt's skin. Then, because he wasn't a good liar with Newt, he added, "in an hour."

"Then you can't be late," Newt protested.

"I own the place."

"So?"

"So I can be late if I want to."

"Minho."

"No arguments." Minho placed delicate kisses along Newt's shoulder and down his arm. The blonde whined softly in his arms and Minho nipped once, gently.

"You're gonna be late, and they're gonna hate you," Newt argued weakly. He pushed in vain at Minho's shoulders, but Minho only took that as permission to roll over and pin Newt underneath him. Newt's heart thudded as Minho replaced his lips with his hand, exploring Newt's skin at his chest.

"Let them hate me," Minho decided. "I don't mind."

"You didn't even get out of bed yet..." Newt trailed off scoldingly.

"You're still in it too."

"Didn't even take a shower..."

"Then take one with me."

Newt ducked his head shyly. "I, um." He watched Minho's fingers etching lazy circles across his stomach and down to his hip.

"Don't you want to?" Minho asked in mock innocence.

Yes, Newt thought. He did. Badly. But he knew that he'd make Minho late for whatever meeting he had and Newt couldn't exactly spend his whole day here anyway. He'd feel guilty, because he always did when he took Minho away from work. But he still felt his stomach flutter erratically when Minho's hand curled around his hip, thumb rubbing the bare skin. "I—I don't think I should..." His voice disappeared as Minho bent down and slowly kissed his mouth. It was deep and lazy, Minho catching Newt's bottom lip in his teeth. Newt whimpered as Minho traced the line of his lip with his tongue before letting go. Minho was breathing harder as he stared down at his boyfriend, one side of his mouth quirking upward. "You really don't want to?" he asked, shaky from their kiss.

Newt was thoroughly ruffled now. "Well...yes, but—" Then he squeaked as Minho caught him around the waist and scooped him up out of bed. Newt scrambled to hold the back of Minho's neck as he was lifted up. His legs automatically hooked around Minho's hips. As he was carried across the room, Minho nosed into his neck and began to press open-mouthed kisses there. Newt giggled like a twelve-year-old, tossing his head back to let Minho kiss more of his neck.

Minho grinned against Newt's throat. "My darling," he murmured, heading toward the hall that led to the bathroom. "I'm so in love with you."

Newt decided then that maybe it wouldn't be so bad to make Minho late for something...just this once...


	17. Chapter 17

-Heyyyy, new chapter! Sorry for the long wait. School's back and it's taking up a lot of my time (my senior year! Yay!) And I'm also writing my own book, a collection of short stories based on a group of characters. It'll probably be a long while before I get it published, but I'm still excited :)

And, anyway, no, I didn't forget about this story. It's gonna be finished in just a few more chapters, so hang in there. Here's more Minewt for you!-

After their shower, Newt was seated at the kitchen island, wearing his boxers and one of Minho's old, navy track T-shirts. He felt wonderfully boneless and silly with love, as though he might melt onto the floor. No one had ever been able to make him feel this way before. He wanted nothing more than to feel like this again and again. Cradling a mug of coffee in his hands, he raised it toward his mouth distractedly. The image of Minho's skin against his own, hot water on his broad shoulders in the shower, kept slipping into his mind. He beamed like a fool into his mug, almost unable to drink because of how happy he was.

Minho was back in his room or something at the moment, getting dressed. Newt imagined he could hear the footsteps upstairs and it made him feel strangely even more in love than ever. After a brief sip of coffee, he set the mug back down on the counter and ran his hands back through his hair. It was still damp, which of course resulted in a tangle of blonde, but he'd fix it later. Glancing down, he examined the oversized shirt he wore. Since it was Minho's, it was too big on Newt, but it felt soft and worn. This was a loved shirt. A smile curved his lips and he considered just wearing it all day.

Suddenly, an all-too familiar voice came from outside the kitchen. "So, I know that you might be busy today, but there's this business party thing tomorrow night that I have to go to, and I thought you could—" Minho had been striding into the kitchen as he spoke, fiddling with the hem of his black tank top. But when he glimpsed Newt, he paused in the middle of a sentence. A broad grin spread over his face. "Nice hair."

Newt smiled. "Yeah, yeah, whatever," he scoffed, holding his coffee up to his mouth again. "I'll fix it when I feel like it."

Minho chuckled. Of course he looked flawless, black hair perfectly spiked, the cross looped around his neck. "Don't bother fixing it," he told Newt. Rounding the kitchen island, he came to Newt's side and ran his fingers fondly through the blonde's hair. "I like your hair like that."

Newt leaned into Minho's touch. "Then you're the only one who does," he joked, because really, his hair was pretty bad in the morning. Minho's fingers combed through his hair again and rested on the nape of his neck; they massaged lightly into his skin, making him purr appreciatively.

At once, Minho flitted forward to drop a kiss on Newt's temple. "My angel," he whispered in Newt's ear, breath fanning over Newt's neck. Newt shivered.

"So what were you saying earlier?" Newt asked, trying to shove Minho's just-got-a-shower scent away. It was utterly intoxicating.

"Hmm?" Minho hummed questioningly. He was busy dragging a stool over to Newt's, intentionally letting them touch. Sitting down, he looped one arm around Newt's waist, his hand slipping under Newt's shirt to splay across his side.

"W—what were you talking about when you came downstairs earlier?" Newt repeated shakily, goosebumps spreading over his skin at Minho's touch.

"Oh. I don't remember." Minho didn't seem to care though. He shifted so that their thighs were pressed together under the counter.

Newt managed a light chuckle. "How could you just forget?"

Minho smiled lopsidedly and slid his palm up and down Newt's side. "I guess I'm just distracted," he murmured.

Newt looked at him for a long minute. Then, suddenly, he knotted his fingers in Minho's neckline and hauled him into a hard kiss. A sound of surprise came from Minho's throat, but he sank quickly into Newt's lips. Newt closed his eyes, cradling the line of Minho's jaw with one hand. The taste made him drunk and the softness of Minho's lips sent trembles down his body. He slipped his tongue past Minho's lips, shamelessly deepening the kiss. Minho let out a moan, his free hand falling to plant on Newt's thigh. Newt burned with the touch and a sharp gasp escaped him.

It was Minho who broke it, panting and resting their foreheads together. "Newt," he breathed reverently, brushing their noses together. "I don't want to hide this anymore."

Newt blinked. "What?"

Minho smiled slightly, reaching up to run a hand over Newt's hair. "I want people to know that you're mine. And that I'm yours. I'm tired of all the secrets."

Newt's chest brimmed with joy and he bit his lip over a wide grin. Finally. He'd been waiting for this moment for so long now. He felt like kissing Minho again, but he wanted to hear more. "Okay," he agreed. "What's the plan then?"

"I was going to tell you earlier," Minho began, rubbing the back of his neck. "But then, you uh. Distracted me." Newt's reply was to lean against Minho's shoulder and nose into his neck affectionately. Minho grinned, pressing his cheek against Newt's hair. "Tomorrow night, there's a business thing going on up at work. They call it a meeting, but it's really a party, and an excuse for some reporters to show up. It's all people from work and their wives or husbands. I thought..." He paused uncertainly, but at last went on. "I thought I could tell them there."

A surge of excitement washed over Newt, along with a prickle of unease in his heart. He had no idea how everyone was going to react to this news. Their boss was dating his assistant, the "favorite." And to top it off, Newt didn't know if anyone realized that Minho was even gay. THAT was sure gonna go over well. I don't care, he thought, burrowing his face deeper into Minho's neck. "Sounds like a good idea," he remarked, with just a touch of sarcasm.

"I thought so." Minho pushed his nose into Newt's hair as the blonde nestled closer, breathing in. His eyelids drooped.

"How were you planning on announcing it, exactly?" Newt asked curiously. It hardly seemed like Minho to make a big deal out of it.

"Maybe I'll just walk in with you," Minho suggested. "Let them figure it out."

Newt nodded. They sat for a minute, still and quiet. Newt thought he could feel Minho's pulse at his throat, close to Newt's ear. The blonde shivered. Was he really able to make Minho's heart race like that? "What if they don't accept us?" he asked in a small quiet voice.

Minho turned his head to kiss Newt's forehead. "I don't care," he muttered. "I'd rather have you than let them decide who I should be with. You're all I want."

"Okay," Newt whispered, because he could think of nothing to say to that. He couldn't quite believe that Minho cared for him this much. How could anyone be this in love with someone else? How could they survive it? He felt the twist of it in his chest, almost-painful. He angled his head slightly on Minho's shoulder, so that he could kiss Minho's neck. His mouth lingered at one place, teeth grazing the skin.

Minho sighed roughly, quirking his head to the side to give Newt more access. In reply, Newt kissed harder. "Newt, I can't—" Minho gasped, his hand coming up to curl into Newt's shirt.

The tremor in his voice drove Newt crazy. He decided he couldn't take it anymore. Sliding off his seat, he deftly hooked a leg around Minho's waist and straddled his lap. His fingers sank deep into Minho's hair, carelessly messing it up. Minho inhaled harshly and then groaned as Newt ran his tongue in a long line up Minho's throat. His hands grabbed for Newt's hips to haul him closer. He let his head fall back as the blonde mouthed along his neck. Nipping at the smooth skin, Newt gasped out, "I love you," with every kiss he left.

Minho was so distracted, he couldn't say the words back.

-x-x-x-

"What was it like when you became the owner of Park Industries?" Newt was lying stretched out on his back, on Minho's bed, when he asked the question. He was fully dressed now, hair combed and wearing jeans. (He'd kept Minho's T-shirt though)

"Uh...it was really...stressful," Minho answered breathlessly. He was on the floor at the moment, doing sit-ups.

Just the thought of doing sit-ups made Newt tired, so he was sitting out. Not that he didn't enjoy watching Minho do them. The billionaire had changed into his mesh shorts, but the best part by far was him being shirtless. Newt rolled over onto his stomach and rested his chin on his folded hands. He studied the sleek muscle flexing in Minho's body and bit his lip. "Why was it stressful?" he asked.

"My dad...put a lot of pressure on me once he gave me the company," Minho replied. "He thinks I have to be great at everything or there's no point to me even trying."

"He's a perfectionist," Newt commented.

"Uh-huh."

"What're your parents like?"

Minho gave a small sigh. "My mother died when I was four. My father isn't very...loving. He sees me as a trophy, not a son." A humorless laugh came from him. "He doesn't know I hired you, let alone started seeing you."

Newt blinked. "You don't even tell him about people you hire?"

"He doesn't care. He just asks me how much money I'm making and lets me know about my mistakes." Minho's gaze was bitter and fixed straight ahead.

Newt hated seeing Minho like that. He hated that someone like Minho had a father who treated him in this way. He wished he could make it better. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

Minho's eyebrows rose a fraction in surprise. "Don't worry about it," he replied, but a half-smile tugged at his mouth.

Newt fell silent. He watched Minho's sit-ups for a little while, caught in the fluid way he moved. A surge of affection hit him then. He was lucky that he got to call this beautiful person his. After a couple more minutes, he sat up halfway. "Want me to hold your feet?"

Minho wrinkled his nose in confusion. "Hold my what?"

"Your feet," Newt laughed. "So that you, you know, don't move them while you do sit-ups." He grimaced at memories of gym class in high school. "I used to have people do that for me because I sucked at them."

"Sure, go ahead," Minho said uncaringly.

Climbing off the bed, Newt sat cross-legged at Minho's feet and planted his hands on top of them. At first, he just kept staring at the ripple of Minho's stomach, faintly aching to touch. Then he grinned and snuck his fingers under Minho's feet. Minho yelped comically, yanking his feet away from Newt. "Don't tickle me!" he protested, propped up on his elbows and smiling widely.

"Sorry, sorry!" Newt snickered. "I had to." He set his hand back on top of Minho's feet. Minho sent him a wary look, and Newt laughed again. "I won't do it again, I swear."

"Okay..." Minho went back to his sit-ups, but with continued suspicious glances directed at Newt.

Newt couldn't get the faint smile off of his face. Something about finding out that Minho was ticklish made him very happy. Evilly, he vowed to find out what other places were ticklish on Minho. He watched Minho move, and his careless, black hair, and his dark eyes. He sighed slightly. "I'm horribly in love with you," he murmured.

"What?" Minho asked, missing it, and when he sat up, Newt leaned in to kiss him. Minho's movements faltered as their lips brushed together once. The two of them stared at each other. Then Minho took the back of Newt's head and connected their mouths again. Their kisses were deep and slow, making Newt's eyes drift closed. Straightening his legs, Minho planted his hands on Newt's hips to pull him across the floor. Newt uncrossed his legs as he was tugged onto Minho's lap, then crossed them again behind Minho's back.

They never stopped kissing; in fact, their kissing only became more hurried and frantic. Minho had his fingers carding through the hair at the back of Newt's head, his other hand curling around Newt's thigh. Newt felt the heat of Minho's palm through his jeans, rubbing up and down his leg, and making him shiver. Setting his fingers at Minho's collarbone, he ran his nails down Minho's chest. Minho moaned, the sound caught against Newt's lips, and Newt's fingers itched with want. Feeling the strong definition of Minho's abs under his touch, he moved his hands down to hook into Minho's waistband. He didn't think as he started to push it downward, only blocked by the way Minho was sitting. After hearing Minho's gasp, Newt moved his hands away to undo his own jeans.

"Newt," Minho panted, grabbing for Newt's hips. He leaned back and hauled Newt on top of him as he did.

For the next hour, Newt couldn't speak.

-Night-

Newt stayed the night again. The way he slept was utterly enrapturing; blonde hair falling over his forehead and the expressive lines of his eyebrows, lashes twitching. The silken curve of his lips was lit by a slice of moonlight, as was the graceful line of his neck. One arm was tossed above his head, the other laying across his stomach. He still wore Minho's old T-shirt.

Minho couldn't stop staring at him.

He stood at the bedside, having gone to get a glass of water, and now he couldn't move. The glass felt cool in his hand and was gradually freezing the tips of his fingers with cold. He didn't set it down though. After walking into the room, he'd taken one look at Newt's sleeping form, and was caught. He seemed to have found a new guilty pleasure: watching his assistant sleep. A pang of bitter irony hit him. His assistant. His assistant was in his bed, had been in his bed for two nights, and had seen him with every defense down. None had ever lasted over a month and none had ever captured Minho's attention. How had Newt done it?

He did it so well, Minho thought, finally placing the glass on the bedside table. He never saw it coming. All his life, he'd been alone and happy that way. Who needed to deal with things like love when there was a business to run? He didn't have time to worry about a relationship or the heartache that came with it. Besides, he was gay. God only knew what those people at his pristine business would think when they found out. So he'd kept to himself. He'd guarded himself against others. Kept his heart his own. Sure, there'd been men catching his eye once in a while, but he shut down his feelings quickly. There was no time for such foolish things.

But then he'd met Newt.

His first thought upon meeting Newt had been exactly what he'd said earlier: no one had a right to look like that, like an angel had been permitted to walk the earth. No one had a right to make Minho Park stutter when he said "hello." But that's precisely what had happened. It couldn't be helped; Newt was gorgeous, and he didn't even realize it, which only made him MORE gorgeous. Minho tried to close up his heart again, but it didn't work. Everything Newt did made Minho want him. He adored Newt's brilliant blue eyes and his coy smiles. He LOVED how Newt could be charmingly shy at the best times, like right before Minho kissed him. There was no one else that could do this to Minho.

Careful and slow, Minho moved to the edge of the bed and sat. He didn't want to wake Newt. As he shifted to fold one leg on the mattress and let the other dangle off the side, the bed creaked. He grimaced as Newt stirred. But the blonde only made a tiny noise before slipping into sleep again. Minho breathed out in relief. He was even more careful as he stripped out of his shirt and tossed it onto the floor. Glimpsing a flash of black, he paused. A strange feeling came over him as he touched a petal of his lily tattoo, then the silver cross at his throat. One he'd gotten for himself and one he'd gotten from his mother, before she died. He wanted something for Newt.

Glancing down at Newt's lanky form again, Minho reached up behind his neck. For the first time ever, he undid the clasp of the little silver chain. He slipped off the necklace and redid the clasp again. For a moment, he watched the cross swing in front of him, shimmering. A smile appeared on his face, unbidden. With gentle movements, he laid the silver cross on the bedside table. He'd remember to give it to Newt in the morning.

After stretching briefly, he finally sank back into bed again, pulling the sheets up his torso. He mentally congratulated himself on not waking Newt up as he did. Then he settled in to sleep, closing his eyes. They opened again when he heard the rustle of the covers next to him. He blinked in surprise as Newt rolled across the mattress in his sleep and flopped an arm over Minho's body. His cheek rested against Minho's shoulder. Minho stared down at Newt's hand on his chest, taken aback by the crazy joy that bloomed in every part of him. This was it. He was completely and utterly owned by the person next to him.

It didn't take him long to decide that he didn't mind.

He didn't mind at all.

-x-x-x-


	18. Chapter 18

-Lonnng chapter. Yay! I had so much fun writing this, you have no idea. I'm not even gonna say anything else, you just have to read it. Thank you for so many wonderful reviews. You are the best readers ever, seriously. Enjoy your Minewt :)-

Minho Park was nervous.

He was now standing right outside Newt's door, hands behind his back so that no one would notice how he played with the hem of his shirt. It was a habit that came out when he was uneasy, or when he didn't have a tie to fiddle with instead. He was dropping Newt off at home. Minho didn't have any clothes at his place for Newt, or anything else that belonged to him. They both needed to get ready for this damn business meeting tonight. Just thinking about it made Minho sick. There were going to be reporters and his coworkers. There were going to be cameras and questions and accusations. The best-case scenario was that everyone gradually accepted the relationship and moved on.

Worst-case scenario was that the accusations and nasty remarks only grew worse and worse, until ultimately, Newt quit his job. Maybe even stopped seeing Minho.

Minho's fingers clenched briefly in the back of his shirt, but he hid it as Newt worked at unlocking his door. The horrid thought had floored him. To lose Newt now would not be acceptable. Minho would go out of his mind. He wasn't even sure he'd be able to function properly without the blonde in his life. God, how fast he'd fallen. Life would be an empty shell compared to what it was now with Isaac Newton.

"Well, um..." Newt cleared his throat awkwardly, drawing Minho's attention back to him. "I'll see you at the party, right? It's at Park Industries, so I'll come at—"

"I'll pick you up," Minho interrupted with a comforting tone he forced into his voice. They really were doing this, weren't they? No backing down.

The sparkling smile he got made Minho's insides turn to jelly. "Okay. Will Charleston drive us?"

Minho teasingly chuckled at Newt's hopeful voice. "You have a thing for my driver now, too?"

"Shut up!"

Newt was too cute when he tried to be annoyed though, so Minho only laughed again. There was always this look in Newt's eyes when Minho laughed and Minho longed to keep seeing it. His cheer faded. He didn't want to leave. Not for a second, not today, when everything was going to be on the line. Cautious, he glanced both ways down the hall before taking two swift steps up to Newt; he kissed Newt's forehead, lingering, but not going any farther or touching Newt. He knew if he did, he'd never leave. "I'll see you tonight," he murmured, brushing his jagged hair against Newt's soft bangs. "At seven. I'll be here."

"Minho," Newt whispered, reaching up like he wanted to clasp the back of Minho's neck. But he remembered they were in public, because the hand only hooked in Minho's shirt. Minho swallowed at the slight contact. "I'm..." He didn't say it. But Minho guessed it. Afraid. Scared.

"Don't be. Everything will be fine. We'll march in, announce that we're together, and walk out like we own the place."

Newt gave a tiny laugh, almost a giggle. He was the only twenty-three-year-old that could giggle adorably without being laughed at. "Okay."

"We'll be fine," Minho repeated. He ghosted another kiss to Newt's nose. "Trust me, love."

Nodding once, Newt took a step back. The space between them opened up and Minho missed Newt's warmth and honeying scent around him. He had to turn his face away and inhale fresh air to keep his senses. Glancing back at the blonde, he sent his boyfriend a confident half-grin. "Tonight."

"Tonight," Newt agreed, by way of farewell. His hand rested on his door, body edging toward it.

Minho tossed one last, reassuring look over his shoulder before he had to start back down the hall. He had to go home, get something to wear, and gather his courage. This wasn't going to be easy. In fact, he was beginning to think it was going to be the hardest thing he'd ever done. The floor made a dull sound under his shoes and the air felt heavier all of a sudden. He could feel the weight of the cross in his pocket. He was planning on giving it to Newt tonight. He lifted his chin without realizing it. He was going to get through this. He was Minho Park. He always came out on top. No one was going to take this from him.

"Min!" The familiar voice sounded from behind. Minho paused, shivering in delight. God, did he love that nickname. He barely had two seconds to turn around before Newt crashed into him, arms flung around his waist. Minho staggered back a step, startled, and caught Newt by the shoulders. "What—?" He stopped, eyes widening in surprise, as Newt kissed him full on the mouth. They were in public! What if...? But, despite himself, Minho still felt disappointed when Newt ended it in a hurried moment. Newt hid his fear well everywhere except in his open, indigo eyes. "I love you," he confessed again.

Now we've really said this too many times, Minho thought drily. Really, they were like silly teenagers. But truthfully, he couldn't seem to care that much what they sounded like. All he cared about at that moment was hearing Newt's wonderful, musical voice form those words. "I love you, too," he replied softly, rubbing his hands up and down Newt's shoulders. "Nothing that they say can change this. After tonight, it'll still be me and you. I can't let you go that easily."

Newt grinned brilliantly. "I wasn't planning on letting you go either."

"Great minds think alike."

"I'm the one named after a great mind here."

"I'm the one who became a billionaire."

"I'm the one who stole the billionaire's heart." Newt whispered those last words into Minho's ear, making Minho's knees nearly give out.

"Fine. You win this time."

-Tonight-

Minho stood in front of the mirror in his sleekly designed bathroom, buttoning up his shirt. It was, expectedly, another one of his many crisp, white shirts he wore nearly everyday. It was paired with the usual black dress pants and shoes. There were only a few, tiny differences. In his pocket was a silver cross on a chain, instead of being around his neck and hidden under his shirt. His fingers weren't as sure as they'd once been, trembling a bit as he did the last button. This wasn't put-together, confident Minho. This was nervous, not-ready-for-this Minho.

Bracing his hands on the sink, he bent toward the mirror and closed his eyes. He still didn't know what his plan was, exactly. Walking in with Newt just like that didn't seem like the best idea. But what else was there to do? This was the fastest, most painless way to do this. There was no delicate way to handle this situation. He was romantically involved with his assistant. They'd learn it, and they'd have to learn to live with it.

"When did this get so hard?" Minho asked no one in particular. Opening his eyes again, he raised his head and looked at his own reflection. He saw the billionaire with the perfect hair and the faultless smile. He snorted and looked away. Not so faultless anymore.

He couldn't waste time like this, worrying. Newt was waiting for him and they had a party to go to. Plucking his suit jacket from where it hung at the door, Minho shrugged into the familiar, black material. He spared another glance at himself as he buttoned that too. Not bad, he thought, though he wasn't a very vain person. Newt looked ten times better in his suit. Minho had decided to go without his watch tonight (because who cared about time at a party, and with the added confession he'd be announcing?) and tieless, because what the hell. It was his party, after all.

There was a polite knock at the door then, making him pause. The papery, kind voice of Charleston came through from the hall. "Mr. Park? Are you ready to leave? I think we might be late if we wait much longer..."

Minho warmed at the older man's voice. Charleston was like a grandfather to Minho, more than another assistant or driver. He greatly appreciated everything Charleston did for him and made sure he was paid generously in return. "Don't worry, Charleston, we can leave now," Minho reassured, as he strode to the door. Pulling it open, he was faced with Charleston's thinning, gray hair and questioning expression.

"Oh, good, there you are," Charleston greeted, sounding just like a proud grandfather indeed. And damn, the old guy's eyes were sharp because he immediately asked, "where's your cross?"

"My...well..." Minho subconsciously touched his collar, where the shine of the chain was missing. "I didn't wear it tonight."

"Why ever not?" Charleston asked. He sounded EXACTLY like a grandfather now.

Minho cleared his throat. "I'm giving it to someone. As a gift."

"Ahhh." Charleston squinted at his boss in a way that said, I'm on to you. He proved it in the next sentence. "Is this perhaps the same someone that stayed over the last two nights, and has been coming over every other day the past month or so?"

Minho's mouth opened and no words came out.

But Charleston only chuckled, a sound like crinkling paper. "Don't worry. You don't have to explain yourself to me, Mr. Park," he said mildly. "I don't mind who you see and it's none of my business anyway. But, if you don't mind my saying so, I think you chose rather well."

Not entirely sure what to say, Minho saw his driver with new eyes. Charleston would know more about Newt than he let on, wouldn't he? He'd driven Newt here once and he lived very close by. Minho would be a fool to think that Charleston didn't know. He's accepted it though, he thought. A surge of gratitude filled him for the man in front of him and he wasn't sure how to put it into words. So he just smiled. "It's Minho."

Charleston blinked. "What?"

"You've worked for me for years, Charleston, and you never stopped calling me 'Mr. Park' once." Minho hid his hands behind his back, sheepish. "You know me better than my own father does. So I think it'd be all right if you called me by my first name."

"I...Thank you," Charleston stammered. The delight at the compliment glowed in his face. "Thank you, Mr—Er...Minho." He said it like he was speaking to a son.

"I think I should be thanking you. You're driving me to this thing tonight, after all." Minho was glad that money hadn't made him lose this: the ability to make other people so happy.

The good mood lasted until Charleston glanced at his watch. "Oh, dear Lord, we're going to be late."

-x-x-x-

Beautiful. It was the only word to describe the blonde standing in front of him. Minho gaped like a fool when Newt stepped out of his apartment and shut the door behind him. He knew Newt was going to look better in that suit. Even so, NEWT couldn't keep his eyes off of MINHO. "Hi," he said, with that shyness Minho liked. His gaze roved over Minho's body in a way that Minho felt to the tips of his toes. "You look...nice."

Minho had to crack a grin. "Nice?" he repeated.

"Well..." Newt nudged the floor with the toe of his shoe, bashful.

Minho lived for the sweet expression on Newt's face right now. Taking a step forward, he cupped Newt's face with a hand. He angled Newt's head up so that their eyes met. "I think you look too good," he joked. "You're making me look bad."

"Yeah, right," Newt scoffed.

"It's true."

"Doubt it."

"Why don't you ever believe me when I compliment you?"

Newt brought his hand up to hold Minho's fingers to his cheek, turning his head into his touch. "Have you seen yourself?" he asked, and briefly pressed his lips to Minho's palm; a shock skittered up Minho's arm. "You're perfect. I always feel so...flawed around you."

"You shouldn't." Minho caressed Newt's cheek with his thumb, reveling in the smooth skin.

"But—"

"You shouldn't." Minho saw the disbelief in Newt's expression. How could Newt not know that he looked like an angel, or that he drove Minho mad with the way he looked? Slowly, he stroked his thumb along the line of Newt's lower lip, just to see the way he reacted. Newt's breath tickled Minho's hand as he exhaled, eyelids fluttering. His mouth dropped open partly, making him look oh-so-kissable.

Minho would've gladly kissed Newt until he forgot his own name, but they had somewhere to be. Besides, they were still in a hallway, where people could see them. So Minho reluctantly pulled his hand away and gave Newt some space. He noticed the disappointment in Newt's face and it made him more happy than it probably should have. He liked knowing how much Newt wanted him. "We should probably get going," he said, clearing his throat. "Charleston's waiting outside to drive us there."

Newt brightened. "In a limo?"

"Ha, you wish," Minho teased. "I didn't want anything that would stand out too much."

"So, what'd you bring then?" Newt asked, following Minho as he led the way through the apartment building.

"A car."

"Wow."

"I know, right?"

"If it's anything like the car you gave me, it's gonna be great."

Minho tossed an easy smile over his shoulder. "But not better than a limo would've been, huh?"

"Nope."

There was a brief break in their conversation then, as they spotted a group of girls ahead of them. The loud, bubbly pack were all chatting and texting on cell phones. Minho shifted to the side to let them walk by, hearing Newt's footsteps behind him as he did the same. A few of the girls only cast them curious once-overs. The others whispered to each other excitedly when they recognized Minho. He felt an uncomfortable weight settle in his stomach. It bothered him that their appearance had made him so afraid all of a sudden, like they might figure out that he and Newt were together just by seeing them. It could very well happen, though. In public, Newt and Minho weren't exactly supposed to be together outside of work. When people saw them like this, it was bound to make them think SOMETHING.

You won't have to worry about that after tonight, Minho reminded himself firmly. Everything was going to be different now. He was sick of hiding behind closed doors. He wanted to able to take Newt out to places or hold his hand while they walked. Owning Park Industries shouldn't stop him from living a life of his own too.

"I wonder what people think when they see us," Newt remarked, catching up to Minho and walking beside him. He gazed after the receding group of girls.

"It doesn't matter what they think," Minho insisted.

"Not yet." Newt pulled at his collar in a show of nerves. "We didn't tell anyone yet."

Minho's heart skittered about in his chest and he tried to hide his own nervousness. "Once everyone knows, you won't have to worry about what they think anymore," he assured, going as far as touching Newt's shoulder to comfort him. "They can laugh or insult us or threaten us and none of it will mean anything, because you'll have me. I won't leave you, Newt, because of what they want from me. Okay?"

Newt moved over so that their shoulders brushed. "Okay." The side of his mouth twitched in amusement. "I guess I won't leave you either."

"What a relief," Minho replied wryly.

"But ONLY because you're rich."

"And here I thought it was because of my looks."

"Eh."

Minho pushed Newt's arm playfully then and received a mock-outraged glare in return. "Hey!" Newt pushed him back, catching him off-guard, and Minho sniggered like a toddler. He shoved Newt again, making sure he didn't do it too hard. Alight with the game, Newt went to shove Minho back again, but as soon as his hands met Minho's chest, Minho snaked an arm around his waist. He hauled the blonde up against him, issuing a gasp. They stood like that, Newt up on his toes and his hands planted on Minho's chest. There were still lingering smiles on their faces. Newt's vanished entirely when Minho murmured, "I want you to kiss me."

Newt ducked his head, though Minho could see the tips of his ears turning pink. "We can't..."

"I know, but I don't care," Minho mumbled, willing his self-control back, but failing. He could feel the lean stretch of Newt in his arms and on his body, and he longed for Newt the way people longed for air when they drowned.

"Min," Newt warned. "We have to go."

He was right, and it sucked. Minho imagined what it'd be like to shove Newt into the opposite wall and show him the kind of kiss Minho wanted from him. But he knew that to indulge that fantasy would be a mistake. He settled for sliding his hand across the small of Newt's back as he released the blonde. "All right. Let's go."

They emerged from the building's doors together and out into the night chill. Up above, the sky was blue-black and already coated with a frosting of stars. The moon wasn't quite full yet, but sat like a pearly orb over the buildings. Below, in the city though, it was as lively as ever. Cars drove back and forth along the busy streets, and the skyscrapers were alive with lights. Everything was silver-and-gold, and glowed as though the stars had been dragged down to Earth. This was what Minho loved about the city. It was why he'd moved here and part of the reason he'd agreed to take his father's place.

Directly in front of them, a luxurious, jet-black car waited. The engine purred idly and the spotless exterior reflected the lights overhead. Charleston's form was visible behind the wheel. Minho watched Newt take it in, visibly fighting a grin. Smiling invitingly, Minho opened the back passenger door with a heavy click. "After you."

"Thank you," Newt said, quiet and shy. He stepped past Minho and into the car without looking at him, acting just like a boy with a silly crush.

Minho shut the door and rounded the car with his heart doing flips inside of him. For the first time in perhaps his whole life, he was unsure of himself. He didn't like that feeling very much. "But you have to go through it, so suck it up," he muttered to himself. Then he opened his own door and slipped into the car. As soon as the door was shut, Charleston drove off with a low roar. The streetlights threw orange streaks across the car, illuminating the stylish interior in bursts. The small flashes lit up Newt's awed face, as he gaped at the soft, leather seating and the bluish lighting. The car had been designed sort of like a limo, with a thin, but soundproof wall separating the backseats from the driver. With the push of a button, a window could slide open to reveal Charleston at the wheel. But for now, it was closed.

"I take it back," Newt said, watching another streetlight blur past. "This is better than a limo."

"I'm glad you like it," Minho replied smoothly. With that as his only preamble, he reached down and took the cross from his pocket. He said nothing as he held it up, letting the chain catch the shine of the outside city.

Newt stared first at the thin, beautiful necklace, then at Minho. He must've seen the emotion in Minho's face, because he hurriedly shook his head. "Oh—No, Minho, I can't," he protested.

"You don't even know what I was going to say," Minho pointed out.

"I'm not taking your necklace." Oh. So he did know.

"Why not?" Minho asked gently.

Newt scrambled for an answer. "Because it's yours," he blurted out at last. "It's special to you and you've had it for forever. How can I take that from you?"

Minho lowered the cross at that. "Newt, you've already taken everything from me."

Lips parting, Newt couldn't come up with a reply. He just turned his head away from Minho, a sure sign of defeat in the conversation. There was a tense moment of silence. Minho was half-afraid that Newt was mad at him. But then Newt shot him a meaningful glance. "Are you gonna put it on for me or what?"

Minho grinned and unsnapped the clasp of the necklace. Shifting as far as the seatbelt allowed, he looped the chain around Newt's neck and closed the clasp. He made sure to tuck it into Newt's collar, where it would be hidden. Before he could hide the cross under his shirt, Newt touched the tiny silver. His index finger traced it the way he'd traced Minho's tattoo. Then, with a little, shaky breath, he slipped it underneath his shirt. "I don't think I can take it off now," he said, glancing at Minho.

They were in the backseat of a car, sharing each other's breaths, within touching distance of each other. Ahead of them was the most terrifying moment they'd go through together. Newt was the definition of perfection in his suit, with his too-blue eyes and Minho's cross around his neck. Minho couldn't stand it anymore. His heart wanted to jump out of his chest. He took Newt's face in his hands and locked their mouths together in a passionate kiss. Newt responded hungrily, parting his lips and whimpering at the first touch of Minho's tongue. It was the whimper that made Minho lose his mind and kiss harder, bruising Newt's lips relentlessly. He fumbled for his seatbelt, unlatching it.

Newt grabbed the front of Minho's jacket and practically yanked him across the car. Their thighs were pressed against each other, hindered by Newt's seatbelt. Minho continued to kiss him like the sky was falling as he undid Newt's seatbelt for him. In seconds, Newt's side was flush against Minho's and he was gripping Minho's jacket so hard, Minho thought it'd tear. They gasped for air between kisses, senseless and needy. They'd be at Park Industries soon. There wasn't much time left.

Minho pulled back at last, panting heavily. "I can't..." he tried, and that sentence died when Newt placed tiny kisses to Minho's jaw. "You make me go out of my mind, Newt...We shouldn't..."

"I want you," Newt interjected. The tone of his voice made Minho pause, noting the blonde's hands clinging to his jacket. "After tonight, I want you more than anything."

Minho had to hold himself back from tearing Newt's shirt open to taste more of his skin. "We should stop," he rasped, as Newt touched soft lips to his neck, beneath his ear.

"No," Newt whispered, and ran his nose along Minho's jawline until he could look him in the eye. "I want to ruin you."

Those shucking words.

Minho bit his lip, desperate for some kind of composure. He saw Newt's mood shift. "Stop that."

Minho blinked. "Stop what?"

"That." Newt placed his thumb on Minho's bottom lip, stroking downward until it slipped out from between Minho's teeth. And then he continued to run his thumb along it, which made Minho's mouth fall open dazedly. "Biting your lip," Newt murmured, sounding nearly pained. "It drives me insane."

Minho seized Newt's wrist away from his face so he could connect their mouths again. His mind felt fuzzy and slowed, blood surging like flame in his veins. He was hopelessly drunk with this, all of it. Newt was holding Minho around the neck, and sucking on Minho's lower lip. Minho thought for sure that he'd lose himself when Newt bit Minho's lip and tugged lightly, before letting go. "I love you," Minho whimpered helplessly, running his hands up and down Newt's back. "My love, my only, I love you."

Newt bent his head and lips moved against Minho's throat as Newt whispered, "I love you, too." And then Newt was kissing his neck. Minho felt teeth scraping along his skin and Newt sucking on the place where his pulse beat, and he groaned in pleasure. He didn't want to go to this damn party. He wanted it to be over already, so he could be alone with this gorgeous blonde in his arms.

Suddenly, the car slowed to a halt.

Newt paused, and then drew back from where he'd been licking Minho's earlobe. He was flushed from the neck up to his lips, breaths hard and fast. He gazed at Minho, who was more or less the same. "I think we're here," he murmured, fingers slipping from Minho's shoulders.

"Yeah. I—Yeah." Minho's mind wouldn't process any other words. He fixed his collar and tousled hair, raising his eyebrows at Newt. "You ready?"

Newt managed a wobbly smile. "As I'll ever be," he replied.

Minho smirked, but embarrassedly tried to hide it; he bit his lower lip again. Newt stared. Feigning a cough, Minho stopped. "Sorry."

"No, I mean, it's just..." Newt chuckled, and cradled Minho's jaw with one hand. "It's really sexy when you do that."

Minho closed his eyes as Newt's thumb slid across his cheekbone. "I'll keep that in mind."

Both of them jumped as a knock came from the front seat. Charleston was letting them know they were there. The massive, illuminated expanse of Park Industries was right outside. It was time.

-x-x-x-


	19. Chapter 19

-Another long one, haha. This was really fun to write again and I loved sharing this story with you guys. There's only one more chapter after this one, so hang in there; there's a little more for Minho and Newt left to go through. Hope you like it and thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews and support :)-

Sitting in a car, separated by the glimmer of Park Industries outside, Newt bounced his toes up and down and wiped his palms on his pants. He'd never felt so stressed in his life. Tonight, he was going to find out just how much his coworkers hated him for being Minho's favorite. He wanted to get it over with. His head was swimming and he wasn't ready. He could still taste Minho's lips and hear his soft, pleasured sounds in the dark. Shuddering once, he didn't know what had come over him, to make him pounce on Minho like that. But he did know that he wanted to do it again and again, anytime he wanted. He wanted them to be free.

Beside him, Minho was smoothing the front of his suit jacket with practiced movements. As though sensing Newt's eyes on him, he glanced up with a ready smile. "I'm gonna get out on your side, okay?" he told Newt. "That way they see me first, and then I can let you out."

Newt nodded, feeling like there was cotton stuck in his throat. "Sounds good."

"Here, switch places with me."

Surprisingly, there wasn't any awkward fumbling as Newt scooted across the seat and Minho moved past him to take his place by the window. Newt caught a gasp of Minho's scent as he passed though and a wave of lightheadedness hit him.

Minho straightened his collar from where it'd been rumpled by Newt kissing his neck. "Last chance to go back," he remarked, setting a hand on the door handle.

Newt flitted forward and placed a chaste kiss on Minho's lips. "I'm not going anywhere."

Minho took the back of Newt's neck and kissed him again, lingering. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," he whispered, and Newt felt like he wanted to cry.

"Just...open the damn door already," he muttered, unable to handle how close they were or how Minho's fingers ran into the hair at the nape of his neck. His thoughts revolved around one sentence: I want to ruin you.

Minho's touch disappeared as he tightened his hold on the door handle. Then it was opening, and the scene before them bloomed into existence, and it began.

The front of Park Industries burned with gold lights from every window. It resembled a great, soaring tower with it's pointed peak and wondrous design. The thick, white lettering at the top proudly stated Minho's last name, shining brilliantly. But that wasn't even the grandest part. In front of them, leading away from the car, was a good-sized crowd of reporters and other businessmen. The businessmen were making their way up the obsidian steps and into the skyscraper. Most of them had elegant women at their arms, in lovely dresses and with hair pulled back. The reporters would jump forward every now and then to throw out a question or comment. Park Industries and the people who worked there were a big deal in Glade City. Who wouldn't want to know about the lives of the wealthy?

It seemed like everyone was getting a decent amount of attention—until Minho stepped out of the car. The camera flashes went nuts. One of the younger, female reporters actually squealed giddily. Minho stood like a prince and looked like one too, with a backdrop of streetlights and skyscrapers. He showed them his rakish smirk and about half of the people there buzzed appreciatively. One of the black-suited men's wife stared shamelessly. Then Minho moved aside and Newt mentally sent up a quick prayer: please don't let me trip like an idiot. He climbed out of the car with a little less grace than Minho had and shut the door behind him.

He was pleasantly surprised when the people just assumed that Minho would of course bring his assistant along. There weren't any dirty looks or whispers...yet. He was also shocked when the camera flashes increased again, as well as the volume of the crowd. He felt Minho's arm on his as Minho sidled closer. "Told you you look good in that suit," he said lowly into Newt's ear.

Newt was going to bottle up Minho's husky, just-been-kissed voice and keep it forever. "I think they like me more," he muttered back. The response he got to that was a chastising tug at the back of his suit jacket.

"Don't answer any questions if you don't want to," Minho advised. He started to stride down the aisle of reporters and coworkers, and Newt followed a step behind.

Although most of the questions became garbled from so many competing voices, Newt had to admit that he sorta liked the attention. So many people were looking at him like he was someone famous or rich. He wasn't used to it, but he bet Minho was. As he moved down the column of people, he tried to catch a few of the questions.

"Mr. Park, it is true that this has been your most successful year yet?"

"What can we expect in the future?"

"There've been rumors of dissatisfied employees; what do you say to that?"

"I heard there's a case of favoritism going on here. Anything to say about that?"

Newt involuntarily grimaced. So it was noticeable. Good thing the questions came too fast for him to respond to. He didn't know how to attempt to answer half of them and most were directed to Minho. He was certainly popular tonight, earning himself congratulations and wistful looks. When he reached the top of the short flight of stairs in front of the doors, he looked expectantly back at Newt over his shoulder. The way he looked then was indescribable. Newt vowed to get the billionaire out of that suit as soon as the night was over.

He ascended the steps and paused beside his boyfriend. "You're certainly popular tonight," Minho commented, pulling the glass door open for Newt.

"Not as popular as you," Newt returned. He walked through doors and into the familiar surroundings of the business. Minho was right behind him, taking every moment he could to discreetly get into Newt's personal space.

The crowd of business workers and their spouses was already humming with conversation. The lobby of Park Industries was huge and had been converted into a room fit for a party. A long table stocked with expensive food ruled one wall at the left. The floor stretched out ahead and the ceiling climbed high above. The glass chandelier at the top threw out splashes of rainbow on the walls. Newt had worked here for months and had never seen it like this before. Drinks were passed around and people were laughing amiably...if they weren't busy discussing work matters with each other.

"Like it?" Minho asked. He stayed beside Newt, barely a safe distance away. His hands were behind his back.

"Your employees know how to throw a party," Newt replied.

"It's all right."

"You don't like it?"

"I'd rather be somewhere else right now."

"Really?" Newt asked innocently. "Where?"

Minho's half-grin threatened to surface and he caught his bottom lip with his teeth. Newt swallowed the sound he wanted to make. "Now you're just doing it on purpose," he accused, and Minho's lashes lowered sexily.

"Am I bothering you?" Minho asked airily.

"Shut up."

"Make me."

"I will."

"I want you to."

A bubble of giddiness burst in Newt's chest. He was enjoying this too much. The secrecy had always been a curse to him, but now that they were about to reveal everything, he found himself liking the surreptitious comments they tossed to each other. He wasn't going to be able to keep his hands off of Minho later.

"Come on," Minho said suddenly, pulling at Newt's sleeve. "There's free drinks."

"Trying to get me drunk, I see," Newt remarked, and Minho actually snorted.

They weaved through the sea of employees, accepting compliments and sharing greetings. There actually weren't that many glaring at Newt as he passed. How nice. They'd all be ticked at him before long. They were about to reach a table of drinks, when they were cut off by perhaps the most stressed worker at Park Industries: a brunette named Thomas. The poor guy looked the way he always did, plucking at his sleeves. "Mr. Park, there you are," he said, brown eyes darting around. "I've been looking for you. There's a situation..."

"How can there possibly be a situation, Thomas?" Minho asked reassuringly. "It's a party."

"Yes, I suppose so," Thomas admitted. He glanced around again.

"Then what's wrong?" Minho had a lot of patience, that was for sure. It was obvious that Thomas was going to take a while.

"Well, you see, I know you told me not to worry about all of that paperwork that was due, but I had to," Thomas explained hastily. "But there was just so much of it to do in one night, and I couldn't exactly call you for help, because who calls their boss for help? I mean, I can handle it. Or well, I could. I thought. But then, there was this thing with Brenda, you know she's always trying to help out, and we tried to do it, but—"

"Thomas," Minho interrupted, while Newt hid an amused grin behind his hand, "can this be shortened, please?"

"Oh, yes, right, Mr. Park."

"Minho."

"...erm...Minho." It looked like it physically hurt Thomas to say that. Apparently, Minho was loosening up. "We uh, we tried to do all the papers, but then we...turned them in wrong."

Minho narrowed his eyes in confusion. "You turned them in wrong," he repeated slowly.

"Yes. I went to put them on your desk and I dropped them." Thomas became very interested in the state of his shoes.

"Okay..."

"...into the paper shredder."

"...how did you manage to do THAT?"

"I dunno!" Thomas's hands shot up in a surrendering gesture. "It was awful! Half of them are gone and the other half doesn't make any sense now, and Brenda doesn't know if she made any copies, and I haven't gotten any sleep since it happened, and I'm really really sorry." He cowered, wringing his hands worriedly.

Minho only placed his hand on Thomas's shoulder. "Thomas," he said, and Thomas cringed, "don't worry about it."

Thomas's jaw dropped. "H—huh?"

"I told you not to worry about them in the first place, didn't I?" Minho asked.

"I thought you just mean not to stress out over them, like I always do," Thomas confessed, flabbergasted.

"I can finish them myself," Minho assured the other man. "They were papers for a presentation, nothing more. I'm sure I can remember everything I wanted to say anyway."

"B—but you shouldn't be doing work that's beneath you," Thomas protested.

Minho arched a brow. "I don't think any work's beneath me."

Thomas had no answer to that. A pool of warmth was starting somewhere in Newt's chest. Minho let go of Thomas's shoulder and dipped his head once. "Now, go enjoy yourself, Thomas," he encouraged. "You really are too stressed all the time."

"I guess I am..." Thomas trailed off. His lips curled up a little at the corners in relief. "Thanks, Minho."

Minho watched him walk away, heading over to where a girl with long, brown hair was waiting; Brenda, probably. She worked here too, mainly with Thomas. Newt had seen her on a few occasions. He came up beside Minho and politely touched his arm. Friends did that, right? "Is he always like that?" he asked.

"Unfortunately, yes," Minho replied. He shrugged. "He takes his job very seriously."

"I can tell." Newt couldn't imagine being constantly worried the way Thomas was.

Minho let the back of his hand brush Newt's. "Now, about those drinks..."

"Right. Drinking. Let's go." It was a victory to hear Minho give a small laugh. They headed over to a table of drinks, all of them in long-stemmed glasses and colorful. They definitely looked alcoholic, not that Newt minded that much. He wasn't planning on getting drunk, but he wanted to try one. Minho took one for himself and then chose another glass for Newt. With a questioning lift of his eyebrows, he held it out. Newt took it with a mumbled thanks. Their fingers overlapped briefly before Minho let go.

Moving off the side, out of everyone's way, they observed the party. Newt took a tentative sip of his drink and it fizzled pleasantly on his tongue. It was sweet too, but not overwhelmingly so. "This is good," he commented.

"Glad you like it," Minho replied. He was drinking his own, making Newt watch the seductive way his lips touched the glass.

"I'll have to find out where I can get more of this." Newt was starting to feel daring again.

"Do you want any more?"

"No."

Minho boldly set his hand at Newt's lower back, staying for only a second or two. "What do you want then?" he asked quietly.

Brazen, Newt leaned up on tiptoe to whisper into Minho's ear. "I wanna kiss your tattoo."

Minho made a curious sound, like he had almost choked on something. "I think I'd like that," he replied, forcing his tone to be nonchalant in front of the others around them.

"I think I would too." Newt never knew that he'd love flirting so much.

"After the party...?"

"I'm all yours."

Minho looked as though those words made him want to put Newt up against a wall. His chocolate eyes bored into Newt with desire before he growled softly and turned away. "Don't look at me like that," he murmured.

"Like what?" Newt asked, just as quiet.

"Like you're imagining taking my clothes off."

"That's exactly what I was doing."

Minho proceeded to set his drink down because his hands were trembling. Newt inwardly congratulated himself on getting the billionaire so crazy for him. He could get used to this. He got rid of his own drink, about to say something else. But he didn't even get that far, because at that instant, a very drunk-looking man stumbled straight into Newt. Their shoulders bumped painfully and Newt had to steady the man with hands on his shoulders. "Whoa, are you okay?" he asked, jumping to his helping-people mode.

The man was older than Newt, and probably older than Minho. He gazed dumbly up at the blonde through clouded gray eyes. "Oh, yes, yes, I'm fine!" he exclaimed, too loudly for this place. "I think I had a bit too much, if you know what I mean!" He winked at Newt in a way that could only be called flirtatious. Oh damn.

"I know what you mean," Newt agreed uncomfortably. He carefully removed the man's hands from where they'd caught themselves on Newt's waist.

"Yes, Mr. Park does love his drinks, doesn't he?" the man asked. He chortled merrily at his own joke, thinning hair askew. Not that he noticed at all.

"He does?" Minho asked, joining the conversation. Newt prayed that the drunken man would shut up. "Strange, I never noticed that."

The man's eyes went as round as saucers. "Minho!" he greeted like they were old friends. "How nice, you're here! I'm Jack Manson and I work right upstairs." He jabbed a finger comically at the ceiling, staggering.

Minho seemed like he'd rather not have Mr. Manson call him "Minho." but he didn't comment on it. "Yes, Mr. Manson. It's nice to see you again."

"And it is a PLEASURE to see you!" Mr. Manson was either gay or acted gay when drunk, because he was practically eating Minho up with his eyes. "Might I ask who your lovely assistant is here?"

Newt fought the urge to back up a step and Minho's hands were behind his back again. "Isaac Newton," he introduced shortly. "He's been my personal assistant for some time now. Newt, this is Mr. Manson."

Mr. Manson guffawed. "NEWT! That is a DELIGHTFUL nickname!" He beamed at the blonde happily.

"I...Thanks."

"And dear Lord, what a truly delicious accent you have!"

Newt wasn't sure if he should talk at all now, because he was legitimately terrified that this guy would lose his marbles over his accent. Behind him, Minho muttered, "he's mine."

"I'm sorry?" Mr. Manson asked, wobbling on his feet.

Minho cleared his throat. "Nothing."

"I thought we were coming clean," Newt murmured over his shoulder.

"I'm not going to tell HIM first," Minho replied distastefully. He rarely ever disliked a person, so it was unnerving to see this side of him. He didn't have much tolerance for drunk people, it seemed.

Or maybe he's jealous, Newt thought with a guilty inner smile. Minho was jealous of a plump, old man with no sense. That was pretty great.

"Mr. Park! Mr. Park, could I have a word with you?" The voice was high and female. Newt glanced over as a short, redheaded girl bounded up to them. Her dress was modest and green to bring out her eyes, and she held a notebook in her grasp. "I go to Glade High School and my teacher let me come tonight to write about you for our newspaper," she told him. "Could I interview you real fast?"

"Well..." Minho glanced apprehensively toward Mr. Manson.

"Just go," Newt urged him. "I can handle myself."

"And I'M here to keep him company!" Mr. Manson added, clapping Newt on the shoulder. It was not reassuring whatsoever.

Minho was still reluctant, but he began to edge away. "All right," he agreed finally, and the girl bounced cheerfully on her toes. "But I can only answer a few questions."

"No problem. I didn't bring very many." She waved at a side of the room where it was less crowded. "Let's go over there where it's quiet. If you don't mind, I mean."

"I don't mind." His attention was on Newt. "I'll be back in a minute."

"Take your time," Newt called after him, as the girl led Minho away. He didn't like intruding on her interview. Minho could take all the time he needed for her. Newt could deal with Mr. Manson on his own. Or at least, he hoped so. Because as soon as he turned back to the man, Mr. Manson grabbed his shoulders. "You, my friend, are great to talk to," he declared. "When did Minho hire you?"

"A couple months ago," Newt answered. He successfully shrugged out of the embrace.

"Ah, I see, I see. I remembered when I first came here. It was so..." He squinted at the ceiling to find a word. "...OVERWHELMING."

"Uh-huh."

"When I first started, though, we had Rin Park," Mr. Manson went on. "It wasn't anything like it is now. I tell you, he was a handful."

"I bet." What else was there to say?

"And he wasn't much of a looker either, you know?" Mr. Manson peered into his empty glass for more drink. "Don't know how his son ever came out looking like he does."

Jealousy sucked. Newt clenched his jaw. "So, you've noticed him?" he asked casually.

"Who hasn't? Now granted, I'm MUCH too old for him, but I've always THOUGHT about it, haven't you? I know all the girls have, but he doesn't seem like he goes after that type." He stopped himself from toppling over by bracing a hand on Newt's back. "You've thought about it too, haven't you?" he asked again, breath reeking of alcohol.

"What do you mean?" Newt asked, trying to get some distance between them and failing.

"Him, obviously! Minho!" Mr. Manson swayed on his feet. "It's not everyday I'd pay good money to find out what my boss is like in bed."

Newt looked away. "I don't think about that that much," he mumbled. He's bloody fantastic, he thought absently.

"Oh, all right," Mr. Manson relented. "You probably have your own to think about, eh?"

Newt flinched when Mr. Manson elbowed him in the side. "Not really."

"No?"

"No."

"Come now, someone as good-looking as you must have someone."

"Mr. Manson, I don't..."

"You didn't think I'd notice?" Mr. Manson asked, and suddenly the drunk man sounded a lot darker than he had before. "I'd notice you from across the room."

Okay, this was bad now. Newt backed away a couple of steps. "I'm sorry, but I really don't think about anyone like that."

"Not even me?" There was evil intent in Mr. Manson's fogged eyes now and he trailed after Newt as the blonde continued to back away.

Newt felt sick. This man was old enough to be his dad. "No," he answered firmly.

"You shouldn't lie," Mr. Manson informed him. "It's so unattractive and you're much too delicious for that."

"I'm not lying. I'm seeing someone."

"You just said you weren't."

"Then I should've told you the truth." Newt's back met a wall and Mr. Manson faced him wickedly. Dammit.

"The truth is that you're afraid because we're at a party," Mr. Manson crooned. His right hand planted on the wall beside Newt's head and he leaned in close. "People can see us, yes, but it doesn't matter. All I want is a good time." He licked his lips, taking in Newt's body with hungry eyes. "Can you give me that?"

"No. Get away from me." Newt couldn't help but be disgusted by this other man.

"You're positively delectable when you're mad." Mr. Manson grinned like a hyena and his free hand wandered to Newt's collar.

"Don't—" That stench of liquor washed over Newt as Mr. Manson leaned in as though about to force a kiss on the blonde.

Four inches. That's how far away he was from Newt when hands fisted in his collar and wrenched him away. Mr. Manson squawked and tripped over his own feet, as he was slammed back into the wall. His mouth was open wide in astonishment as he met Minho's black glare. Minho's body was tight as a coiled wire, oblivious to the cries and startled people around him. "Back off," he growled simply.

Newt was well-aware of the circle forming now and his heart sank like a stone. "Minho, don't."

"Did he touch you?" Minho demanded, not taking his gaze off of Mr. Manson.

Mr. Manson raised his hands helplessly. "You didn't give me a chance to do anything to him!"

"Newt?"

"He's FINE! Jesus, I only wanted to fool around with him a little."

"Shut up!"

Someone covered their mouth with a hand. A few businessmen murmured to each other. Newt couldn't move. Minho never lost his calm around his coworkers. He glowered at Mr. Manson as the older man's eyes flicked back and forth between Newt and Minho. "I don't understand what I did wrong," he said with a short laugh."I was drunk and he was—"

"You don't touch him, do you hear me?" Minho cut him off coldly. "I'll have you fired."

"FIRED?" Mr. Manson spluttered in panic. He scrabbled uselessly at Minho's fingers knotted in his collar. "But I didn't..." Then his face cleared. "Ohhhhh, I see," he drawled, and an evil grin spread over his lips. "He's taken, isn't he?"

Newt's heart stopped. Minho didn't say anything.

"And you're taken too, aren't you, Minho?" Mr. Manson asked loftily. He cocked is head, acting much too arrogant. "Who's your favorite again?"

Gasps came from every corner of the room. The nearest people looked at Minho with new eyes. Some of them scowled darkly. An angry woman stomped to the front and pointed accusingly at Newt. "You mean to tell me you're seeing your ASSISTANT?"

A chorus of words followed, raised voices and shouted insults. The wave of anger filled the room with its sound and the air was heavy with it. Newt shrank away under the blazing eyes of over twenty enraged business workers. Minho closed his eyes.

"How long has this been going on?"

"What kind of business is this?"

"You WERE picking favorites!"

"I thought this was all a sick joke!"

"Did you SLEEP with him?!"

Minho couldn't help it at the last question; he flinched, and a tide of outraged shouts followed. "He DID!" "I knew it!" "I can't believe it!"

Minho looked over at Newt sadly. His grip loosened on Mr. Manson's shirt. "I'm sorry," he said softly, and Newt's heart broke.

"He's sorry!" Mr. Manson crowed. Someone rolled their eyes at him, but others snickered.

Minho released the other man and took a couple steps back, into the center of the circle. He gritted his teeth as the catcalls became worse. That awful blonde, Diana, that had been nasty to Newt, jeered, "so, tell us, how's our wonderful boss when no one's around, Isaac?"

"Yeah, I bet you could tell me how good he is in bed after all!" Mr. Manson put in viciously.

"Minho." The voice stood out from the others, maybe because of how much calmer it was. Newt raised his head as Thomas spoke up from his side of the crowd. "Is this true? You're...with him?" The brunette's eyes flitted uncertainly to Newt.

Minho saw the faint disappointment growing in Thomas's expression and his shoulders slumped. "Yes," he answered flatly. Another hum of disapproving mutters rippled from the watching employees.

Thomas blinked once or twice, evidently in disbelief that his boss would do such a thing. Newt could tell from Thomas's face that he'd never seen Minho reduced to this. "Why?"

Minho didn't give any of them his attention when he said it. He looked at Newt. "Because I'm a fool," he said weakly. "I thought I could live my whole life alone and run this business until I hired someone else to take my place. I thought I didn't need anyone else." He dropped his eyes down to the ground. "I've...I've fallen in love with Newt. I thought that I could be strong, alone, and I can't."

There was silence then. Thomas was the only one who spoke. "But you were," he argued, not unkindly.

Minho shook his head. "If you were in love, Thomas, you'd know that no one's strong enough to be alone forever. I wasn't."

Thomas studied Minho like he was seeing him for the first time. Then he glanced at Newt. "What about you?" he asked. "What was your part in this?"

Newt felt the gazes of everyone burning into him now. "I didn't mean for it to happen like this," he said, folding his arms over his chest like a child in the cold. "I thought that this could work without anyone being hurt."

"But you—you're in love with him, too?" Thomas gestured at Minho, who resembled a beautiful prince fallen from his throne.

"Yes," Newt replied, unashamed. Uncomfortable under the stares, but unashamed nonetheless. "I knew it was wrong the day I met him. But it's just..." he trailed off, because there weren't any words that could encompass this feeling he had for Minho.

"It's just so hard to say no, isn't it?" Diana asked nastily. Thomas's lips made a hard line at being interrupted by her. She pointed a clawed nail at Newt, sneering. "Admit it; you're another one of those assistants that can't keep his hands off of him."

"Stop, Diana," Minho ordered, steel lacing his words.

"Oh, and you're just as bad!" she snapped. "Yelling at me when a job doesn't get done while you're at home, in bed all over your assistant!"

"Leave him out of this."

"He's a huge part of it, whether you like it or not. The news will attack you tomorrow."

"Good. Let them."

"I'll make sure of it!"

"I don't care."

Her wintry eyes flared. "Well, if you don't care that the whole reputation of your company's on the line, then why don't you go ahead and quit on us, huh? Walk out now!"

Minho lifted his gaze to her face at last, and there was a new calm in his expression. "I just did."

There was dead silence then, even quieter than it had been before. Not even a whisper stirred the air. Thomas's mouth fell open and Diana went rigid in complete shock. Newt's heart froze. "Minho?"

Minho shrugged. "I quit," he informed them all. "I leave my place to the person directly beneath me, which is you, Thomas."

Thomas paled. "Wha—what?" he stuttered, knees buckling. Brenda, next to him, hurried to catch him as he stumbled.

"Park Industries is yours," Minho said, with perhaps a note of sadness. "I have enough money as it is. I don't need to spend my life here." He glanced at Newt over his shoulder. "I want something else."

Newt stammered, unable to comprehend what he was hearing. "Minho, you can't...Don't throw everything away for me. I can't just take you away from this."

"I want you to take me away from this," Minho told him, soft. "This isn't the life I want anymore."

"B—but, what about your family?" Newt tried. "What about your father?"

"I don't care what they'll think. I told you, Newt, didn't I? In the car, before we came?"

Newt remembered: you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. His chest filled with the suffocating, wonderful feeling he only had around Minho. He raked his mind for another argument, but found none. As much as he didn't want Minho to lose this, Newt wanted a different life. He finally tossed his arms up in defeat. "Then I quit too."

"WHAT?" Diana and Mr. Manson both chorused.

Thomas, though, was grinning from ear to ear. He straightened up and strode to Minho. At first, Minho inched back warily but then Thomas stuck out his hand. "Thank you."

Lips quirking up, Minho shook his hand. "You're welcome, Thomas."

"Now—now hold on just a minute!" Diana protested, as the people around her murmured in changed tones now. She was losing her support. "You're all going to LET him get away with this now? Because he made a big show and quit his job? This is crazy! Are you out of your minds?"

"Diana," Thomas warned, rolling his eyes. "Please stop already."

Minho wasn't even bothering with her; he'd crossed to Newt's side and bent to graze his lips across Newt's ear. "Wanna get out of here?" he asked in a whisper.

"Only if you take me home with you," Newt murmured back.

Minho grinned. "I can't say no to you."

Diana kept plowing on, relentless. "Now, seriously, you're all standing there! We can't let this happen! There have to be consequences for this and I'm going to—"

"Diana," Minho interjected coolly, "shut up." Then he wrapped Newt in his arms right there and kissed him, earning himself more catcalls, but this time of a different kind.

-X-X-X-


	20. Chapter 20

-EPILOGUE: 2 MONTHS LATER-

-It says epilogue, but this is really a long final chapter. I reached the end of another story *sigh*.

I normally don't do this, but I feel that I have to reply to a few reviews that requested certain things. The reviewer that loved jealous!Minho, yass. I am addicted to a jealous Minho ;). The person who wanted a girl to stab Newt, I don't think I could ever do that to Minho's angel. I actually started another one-shot that's pretty sad for both of them, so I think this'll just be a happy ending. Oh and the guest who wanted more descriptive smut, I'm sorry, but I can't, haha. I can read it, which is weird, but I can't write it. I like my scenes to be more about love and not just physical. But thanks for the review, haha. It made me laugh a little cuz we all love Minewt smut, don't we? ;)

Anyway, I want to thank all of my readers and reviewers for so much amazing support. You're all the reason I keep writing every day (aside from the fact that I just love it and am a gigantic nerd haha). I hope I've done this story and James Dashner's characters justice. Let me know what you think! Sorry for such a long note here... Until next time! :)-

"Minho! We are going to be so late!"

"No, we aren't!"

"Yes, we are, if you don't get up here!"

Newt was jumping up and down like an idiot, struggling to tug on his cargo shorts while searching for his shirt. The open, airy bedroom was lovely to stand in, with rich wooden walls and cream-colored carpet. The huge, glass doors at one wall led out to a little balcony. The ceiling arched upward to a decent height, meeting at a point at the top.

Newt wasn't really interested in the view right now, however. He was too busy trying to find his damn shirt because Minho's parents were visiting and would be there any minute now. The silver cross glinted at his collarbone as he padded barefoot around the fluffy, blanket-piled bed in the middle of the room. He passed the dresser at the back and reached his bedside table, with its neat drawers that matched the dark wood of the house. There was his shirt, pale blue like the sunlit ocean outside. He snatched it up and hastily threw it on.

"Minho!" he yelled again, adjusting the hem around his waist. "What're you doing?"

"Brushing my teeth!" came the reply.

"Well, it's taking you too long! They're gonna be here soon!"

"They can wait then!"

"Ughhh," Newt groaned in exasperation. The Park's already disapproved of Newt. The last time they came over, they criticized him every moment of the day. He had enough to deal with with THEM coming; he didn't need to worry about Minho being late.

The couple had left Glade City once they'd quit their jobs, moving to a luxurious place on the beach. Newt was shocked when he saw the house, rising up out of the white sands like a wooden palace. It wasn't VERY big, but it was still big, and Newt immediately fell in love with it. Most of the interior was white walls lined in reddish wood, except for upstairs. The whole lower floor was connected and very open. There were dozens of huge windows and expensive furniture. Newt had been worried at first, but Minho literally had billions to spend, so costs really didn't matter. He wondered sometimes how Minho had turned out so humble when he had so much.

"Probably wanted to make sure he didn't turn out like his dad," he muttered to himself. Mr. Park was incredibly arrogant sometimes.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway and Minho emerged into the room at last. "Okay, I'm here," he announced, running a hand through his rumpled, shower-damp hair. "Now, I need some clothes."

Newt glanced up at that and proceeded to gape like a fool. Minho wore nothing but black briefs, showing off his olive skin and the black lily crawling up his chest. The muscle flexed deliciously in his back and shoulders, as he opened up the closet and looked for clothes. Newt's heart melted completely and dropped into a puddle on the floor. "Um," he began, as shy as ever. Minho glanced back at him, eyebrows raised. "Y—you look..."

Minho's lips curved up at one side and he turned to face Newt more. "Yeah?"

Newt shuffled his feet. "You look gorgeous," he mumbled.

"You don't look so bad yourself," Minho remarked, shamelessly moving his eyes over Newt from head to toe. "You're the one wearing clothes though, so you look better, as usual."

"Are you kidding me?" Newt asked, momentarily forgetting about the Park visit. He waved his hands at Minho. "You're even hotter without clothes."

Minho didn't turn around, but Newt heard the laughter in his voice. "I think I remember you telling me that the other night," he remarked devilishly.

"Oh, I bet you do," Newt returned, casting a glance heavenward.

"Hard to forget, considering you were also begging me to—"

"Shut up, Min."

"Why don't you make me?"

It was a clear challenge, reminding Newt of another time, with flirtatious comments shared in secret. "I will," he replied simply, striding across the room. Minho chuckled, not seeing Newt at first. Then Newt grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around. Minho's eyes widened, then Newt shoved him back against the closet door and kissed him, hard. A low whine came from Minho's throat and he dropped the pair of jeans he'd gotten from the closet. Wrapping his arms around Newt's waist, he pulled the blonde against him. They kissed slow and long, aching with it.

"Told you I'd make you shut up," Newt breathed into Minho's mouth, exploring Minho's chest with his hands. The muscle was delightfully toned under his touch.

"Wish you'd do it more often," Minho replied huskily. He raked his hand through Newt's hair, tousling it and angling his head. A soft sound left him as he nipped at Newt's lips, urging him to part them. Feeling evil, Newt refused. "Newt," Minho murmured, "please."

Newt grinned. "You'll have to do better than that."

"Dammit," Minho growled, and seized Newt's wrists. Flipping them around, he backed Newt into the door to pin him there. Newt's breaths came faster as Minho slid his wrists up above his head and trapped them against the door. "Kiss me," Minho pleaded, placing tiny kisses to the corners of Newt's mouth and over his lips. Still, Newt didn't let it go any deeper.

"Why?" he asked teasingly, chest rising and falling raggedly.

"Because I want you."

"Your parents are gonna be here soon."

"Screw them."

Newt tipped his head forward as Minho pulled at his lower lip with his teeth. "How bad do you want me?" he asked softly.

"So bad, it hurts," Minho rasped. He found Newt's weak spot then, by accident; he pressed their bodies flush together and rolled his hips against Newt's.

Newt's head fell back as he moaned, unable to grab Minho's hips because his wrists were still held above his head. He glimpsed Minho's wicked smile, a second before Minho started grinding on him again. The fluid way he moved was stunning to watch and the intimate touch of their bodies was turning Newt on so much that he could barely think. Minho teased Newt's lips again, running his tongue seductively along them.

Finally, Newt parted his lips and Minho whimpered as he licked into his mouth, prompting an equally pleasured sound from Newt. Minho tasted like sweet mint from brushing his teeth and that, along with how good of a kisser he was, made Newt's stomach flip-flop. Holding Newt's wrists in one hand, Minho slipped the other up under Newt's shirt. His palm slid up Newt's stomach and Newt arched into him. "Tell me," he gasped, as Minho moved his lips down to his throat.

"Tell you what, baby?" Minho asked, low. He nudged Newt's head aside and mouthed up the side of his neck. He found the sensitive place under Newt's ear and sucked. Newt made an embarrassing, wanting sound at the sensation.

"Tell me what you wanna do to me," he exhaled. He was half-embarrassed to say such a thing, but he wouldn't be able to have Minho until after the parents were gone. He wanted to know what Minho was thinking in the meantime.

Minho took a torturous lick along Newt's earlobe and pressed his lips there to whisper to him. "As soon as they're gone, I'm doing everything to you. I wanna kiss you until you only remember my name and then do everything that comes after kissing." He ran his nose over the curve of Newt's ear. "I want to make love to you."

"Please," Newt begged, unable to get out any other words.

"Do you want me to?"

"Yes."

Minho smirked, taking his revenge slowly. "How bad?" he asked, hushed.

Newt squirmed when Minho blew gently on his ear, his hand splayed on Newt's chest. "Bad," he managed stubbornly.

Shaking his head as if in pity, Minho brought his mouth back to Newt's neck. He kissed at a visible place above Newt's shirt and then sank his teeth in. Newt's back arched again as Minho's tongue teased the now-marked skin. "How bad?" Minho asked again.

"Bad," Newt repeated, and Minho sucked on the bite he'd left. "M—Min, I can't think straight, please," Newt blurted out, tilting his head and trying to free his wrists.

Minho's breath huffed out of him. "You're so beautiful," he murmured reverently. "I wish I could just—forget about them, and let you own me."

"So do it," Newt replied desperately, before he could think better of it. He hooked his leg around Minho's.

"We can't, love."

"Yes, we can. Let me have you..."

"Newt."

"Let me have you."

Newt pushed his hips forward and Minho groaned, bowing his head into the crook of Newt's neck. "I want you to ruin me," he whispered softly.

Newt nuzzled into Minho's hair and his eyelids slid lower. "I'm going to," he murmured, and Minho yanked Newt's shirt up his body.

That was when the doorbell rang.

The couple went rigid against each other. Newt wanted to lock the door and not let the Park's in. He was too high on the feel of Minho's powerful body on his, sharing his heat. Shutting his eyes so he wouldn't see Minho's wrecked expression, he slipped his leg from around Minho's. "They're here," he told Minho regretfully.

Minho rested his forehead on Newt's and made a frustrated sound from the back of his throat. "Dammit."

"Min, I gotta go." Newt tugged meaningfully at where his wrists were still above his head. Minho didn't move. "Minho, c'mon."

"Fine, okay." Minho released Newt's wrists and the blonde lowered his hands. He took the liberty of carding them through Minho's hair as he did.

"Now get some clothes on," Newt ordered playfully. "Your parents don't need to be scarred by seeing you in these." He hooked a finger briefly in Minho's waistband.

"If you insist." Minho dropped a kiss on Newt's mouth. "Tell them I'll be down soon."

"Okay." Newt played absently with his cross, before tucking it under his shirt. It was cool and reassuring against his skin, reminding him of Minho. "Hey."

"Hmm?"

"You still in love with me?"

"Madly." Minho smiled. "Crazily. Indescribably in love."

"Ugh, you're such a romantic." Newt punched Minho's arm lightly, before ducking away to the doorway. Minho's parents were waiting downstairs and they hated to be kept waiting. He jogged down the short hall, past the bathroom on the right, and then down the gorgeous, redwood flight of stairs. At the bottom, he reached the vast living room, which was joined directly to the kitchen on the right. He was hurrying to the front door as another, more insistent knock echoed in the house. "Okay, okay, I'm here," he muttered, grabbing the doorknob and tugging it open.

In front of him, in a tailored, semi-casual suit, was Rin Park. The rich man was joined by a brunette women with wavy hair and wearing khaki capris with a pretty pink blouse. Mr. Park had remarried recently, having met Marian at a restaurant. She was younger than him, but not by much, and still coming to terms with the fact that though her stepson was attractive as hell, she wasn't allowed to flirt with him. She had to get used to that.

"Isaac," Mr. Park greeted formally, slightly uncomfortable that the blonde had answered the door. HE was coming to terms with the fact that his son had quit his job because not only was he gay, but he'd fallen for his assistant.

"Hi, Mr. Park," Newt replied, ever-polite.

Mr. Park craned his neck a bit to peer over Newt's shoulder, eyes narrowing. "Where's Minho?"

"Oh, he's still getting changed," Newt explained. "He'll be down soon."

Mr. Park hummed disapprovingly; he apparently thought that his son should be greeting him at the door.

"Oh, Newt, it's so nice to see you again!" Marian Park put in brightly. She wasn't as uptight as her husband and there was no ill will in her green eyes when she looked at Newt.

"It's nice to see you, too, Mrs. Park," Newt replied. He liked her enough, when she wasn't subconsciously flirting with Minho.

"How's life on the beach suiting you?" she asked.

Newt grinned. "I don't know why I never moved here before."

Mr. Park grunted in annoyance. "You never had my son's money before," he muttered, just loud enough to be heard and make the interaction awkward.

"Oh, Rin, stop it," Marian scolded cheerfully and smacked his arm. Mr. Park looked like he held true hatred for hearing his first name.

Newt tried not to snigger at the couple's light arguing (because it was great to see conceited Mr. Park knocked down a peg). "You can come in," he offered, slipping aside for them.

"Thank you, dear!" Marian swept into the house first, exclaiming over the high walls and furniture. Mr. Park trailed after her at a slower pace, running a critical eye over everything, including Newt. Newt felt strangely guilty as he closed the door, as though he'd been caught doing something wrong.

Luckily, some of the awkwardness shifted away from Newt when Minho hurried down the stairs a minute later. He was dressed in dark jeans and a thin, white T-shirt; the latter had five buttons at the neckline, all of which were undone in his haste to get downstairs for his parents. "Newt, are they here y—?" He broke off, halting at the bottom of the stairway once he spotted the other two people in the room. His gaze automatically went to his father. "Dad."

"Minho." Mr. Park examined his son like he was a wall painting, arching a brow at his slightly-disheveled hair.

Marian practically leapt across the room. "Minho! Come here and let me see you!"

"Oh, um—" Minho stammered as she hauled him into a brief, constricting hug. Her arms struggled to fit around his broad shoulders.

"It is so good to see you; both of you," she gushed, including Newt again. She released her stepson, glowing with happiness. "I'm so glad the family's getting together again. Aren't you, Rin?"

Newt looked on uneasily as Mr. Park approached Minho with measured, deliberate strides. He stopped directly in front of Minho and looked him up and down. "In a hurry this morning?" he asked, lifting his chin at Minho's hair.

"A little." Minho ran a hand over his hair in an attempt to fix it.

"Hm. I see you've stopped dressing the part of a billionaire."

"I see you still wear ridiculous outfits to the beach." The tiniest smile crossed over Minho's lips.

Mr. Park had no argument to that. Newt couldn't stop studying them. Their appearances were almost as different as their personalities were. Rin was taller, and thinner at the shoulders, with black hair like Minho's. But his hair was slicked back nicely instead of spiked, and his posture was ramrod-straight. His nose was also shaped differently and his eyes lacked the golden flecks Minho's had. Rin's nervous habit was playing with his wedding ring, while Minho's was biting his lip. (they both shared that knee-weakening smirk though)

"So," Mr. Park began, and Newt inwardly braced himself, "have you at least been sticking to the old routine?" In other words, the routine HE had come up with for Minho years ago, training him into it as a teenager. Minho had explained it to Newt before. "Keeping track of the money?"

Minho seemed like he was fighting the urge to roll his eyes. "Yes, Dad, I'm sure everyone keeps track of their money," he deadpanned. Mr. Park just looked at him. Minho sighed. "...yes. I'm keeping track of it."

"Good. What about the rest of it then? Staying focused?"

"Yes."

"Making sure you're not being stolen from?"

"Dad. Seriously."

"..."

"Yes."

"Keeping in shape?"

Minho threw his hands up in exasperation then. "Why do you care about THAT?" he asked.

Mr. Park pursed his lips. "We agreed to that when I laid out these rules when you were fifteen, so I still care about it," he explained coolly.

Minho dragged a hand over his face. "This is so—"

"Minho." There was something steely in the way Mr. Park said that. Newt shuddered. What kind of punishment would Minho have gotten when he was younger, for acting like this?

"YES, Dad, I've been 'keeping in shape,'" Minho answered flatly, crossing his arms.

Mr. Park sniffed disbelievingly. "Really? So yesterday, you were—"

"I did the same thing I did every Saturday at home," Minho answered quickly.

Newt felt himself flush at the lie. Every Saturday, Minho normally ran. Except yesterday. Newt had stopped him in the kitchen and, erm, distracted him. Sex on a kitchen counter counted as exercise though, right?

"Now, really, Rin, it doesn't matter that much," Marian consoled, patting Mr. Park's arm. "He's fine, you can see that, can't you? I'm more interested in that food I see in the living room for us. Why don't we all sit down and just talk for a while?"

Mr. Park opened his mouth to object, but Newt interjected. "That sounds great," he told her, receiving her shining smile. He mainly interrupted so that Minho would be spared any other embarrassing questions. "I can get some drinks for you guys, if you want."

"That would be delightful!" Marian exclaimed. She seized Mr. Park's elbow, ignoring how he wrinkled his nose, and guided him away. "I would love some tea and Rin here'll drink anything."

"Marian..."

"Well, it's true!"

Newt snickered at the exchange and started into the kitchen. Never a dull moment with the Park's over at the house.

"I'll help you, Newt," Minho added, thinking fast to get away from his father's prying eyes.

Newt smiled back at him gratefully; he'd like a few stolen seconds with Minho.

-x-x-x-

Five minutes into the visit, Minho was already mentally stabbing himself.

He couldn't believe that his father was so obsessed with Minho's perfection keeping the family reputation safe. He'd already stomped all over it by giving up the company and moving here with Newt. What was there to protect anymore? And he STILL wanted Minho to be the obedient little boy he'd been in high school, with that stupid, godforsaken schedule. GOD IT SUCKED. He felt his father's eyes burning holes into his back as he hurried into the kitchen.

"I'm not going to survive this," he muttered, planting his hands on the counter and leaning against it.

Beside him, Newt flipped open a cabinet and selected four glasses. "Giving up already?" he asked, amused.

"Yes." Minho fiddled with a bowl of sugar on the counter.

"Aww, that's not the Minho I know," Newt cooed jokingly. Slipping past Minho to get to the fridge, he let his palm slide over the small of Minho's back.

Minho scoffed. "What would the 'Minho you know' do then?"

Newt tugged open the fridge and passed a jug of tea to Minho. "He'd look his dad in the eye and say 'screw you.'"

Minho snorted a laugh, catching himself when he heard Mr. Park clearing his throat in the living room. "I basically said that three months ago when I walked out of Park Industries," he pointed out, pouring tea into Marian's and Mr. Park's glasses.

"Eh, true." Newt waved at the tea. "I'll have some of that too."

"Of course."

"Hey. Don't make fun of my British love of tea." Newt scoldingly batted Minho's hip with the back of his hand.

"Yes, your highness."

"You need to call me that more often."

Screwing the cap back on the tea, Minho passed it back to Newt. The blonde put it in the fridge, then glanced at Minho. "What d'you want?"

"Nothing," Minho answered with a one-shouldered shrug. "I'd get drunk, but I think my dad would kill me."

Newt's grin was lopsided and positively adorable. Minho wanted to kiss it off his face. "I wouldn't be surprised if he did," he replied, shutting the fridge.

Mr. Park's low rumble of a voice came from the living room, followed by Marian's lighter tones. It was obvious which one was complaining about Minho more. Minho frowned as he picked up two of the glasses. "I'll take these in," he offered.

"Thanks." Newt snagged the last glass and took a sip. Then, seeing Minho's bitter face, he snuck a kiss from Minho's lips. He tasted like iced tea. "Don't let him get to you," he advised, sea-blue eyes open and caring.

Minho smirked. "I won't," he replied slyly, "your highness."

"I'll be your prince if you'll be my servant."

"I'm so having my way with you tonight."

Newt pulled at Minho's belt loop and Minho winked just to make him blush.

They wandered into the living room side by side. Marian took her glass while beaming up at Minho radiantly. "Thank you, Minho," she gushed.

"Yes, thank you," Mr. Park echoed, accepting his glass regally. He didn't let their fingers touch.

Minho felt the familiar pang in his heart. They'd never been close, not really. It was worse now. Pushing it away, he took a seat on the recliner, across from his parents on the sofa. "So, how've you been...?" He lost the thought when Newt sat next to him, squishing their sides together from shoulders to thighs. The blonde nursed his tea, unbothered by the press of their bodies.

Mr. Park tapped the rim of his glass. "What was that, Minho?" he asked with a meaningful look: finish a thought; don't sit there like the lovestruck idiot you are.

"I just wondered how you two have been doing," Minho replied. "I haven't seen you in a while."

"We're doing lovely!" Marian answered suddenly. "Aren't we, Rin?" She liked to say that a lot.

"We're fine," Mr. Park replied. He shot a dark frown at where Minho's hand had instinctively rested on Newt's knee.

Minho swallowed. "I'm glad to hear it." He was horribly ashamed by the way he acted under Mr. Park's condescending hints; he took his hand off of Newt's knee. The approval in his dad's face made Minho want to punch him.

"But I'm more interested in your life," Mr. Park went on, balancing his glass on his knee with fingertips on the rim.

Oh God. "What do you want to—"

"Not you," Mr. Park cut Minho off, and Minho lowered his gaze. "Isaac."

Newt paused in the middle of lifting his glass and Minho knew then that he was in trouble. "Um," Newt started, puzzled, "you can call me Newt, if you want, Mr. Park."

"I find that I prefer things to be more formal than that," Mr. Park replied matter-of-factly. Then, with a touch of snideness, "no matter what Minho might've called you while you worked for him."

"Dad," Minho warned.

"You didn't call him 'Newt,' did you?"

Minho gritted his teeth. "I've always called him Newt."

"And I suppose he called you 'Min,'" Mr. Park remarked absently.

Minho wisely held his tongue.

"Anyway, Isaac," Mr. Park continued. Newt faced him warily. "I've been wondering about this for quite sometime..."

"Oh, me too!" Marian piped up, and her husband glanced sharply at her. She bent eagerly toward Newt. "When can we expect a wedding?"

Newt's jaw fell open and Mr. Park choked on his drink. Minho rubbed at his forehead, where a headache was forming. Finding some sense again, Newt stuttered. "W—well, we've thought about it. But there really isn't any rush, I guess."

Marian clasped her hands around her drink. "But I would just LOVE to see the two of you married," she purred.

"Marian," Mr. Park warned icily.

"You could even do it on the beach!"

"Marian, enough."

She huffed at him indignantly. "Then what did YOU want to ask him then?" she asked.

Mr. Park turned something like a glare on Newt then. The hard line of his jaw said it all, every awful thought he'd ever had about Newt. He took a breath. "I want to know when it was, exactly, that you decided to take advantage of my son."

Newt didn't get to answer. Minho stood up, fists at his sides in outrage. "That's enough," he snapped. "I didn't ask you to come here so you could—"

"Sit down, Minho," Mr. Park brushed him off.

"I'm not your puppet!"

"Minho," Mr. Park growled, tapping the edge of his cup again. "Sit. Down."

Cursing his stupid, trained mind, Minho sat.

"Now," Mr. Park went on, "I expect an answer, Isaac."

Newt had set his glass down, because he was too busy staring sadly at his shoes to drink anything. It hurt Minho's heart to see. "I guess..."

Minho couldn't take it. He stood up again, ignoring his father's sharp, "Minho!" "He started taking advantage of me the second month he worked there!" he snapped fiercely. "He did it every moment of every day, as soon as he walked in! And you know, what, Dad? I LET him."

"Minho, please," Newt tried, but to no avail. This fight had been boiling up for weeks now.

Mr. Park rose to his full height, a mere two inches taller than Minho. He glowered right back at Minho as he set down his drink and adjusted his suit jacket. "You're pathetic, then," he sneered. "Giving in to THIS." He gestured angrily at the house around them.

"I don't regret it at all," Minho retorted.

"If you could go back, you'd stay," Mr. Park snarled vehemently. "I'd never allow it to get this far. You'd run that business until you were too old to walk to the building."

"If I could go back, I'd choose him every time," Minho shot back.

"You threw your life away, Minho."

"That's more than you ever did for Mom."

Mr. Park's gaze flashed in a burst of rage. "How dare you?"

"What're you gonna do?" Minho challenged defiantly. The small twist of a smirk curved his lips. "Send me to my room?"

"You rebellious little brat." Mr. Park marched right up to Minho, as Marian squeaked fearfully. Stopping nose-to-nose with his son, he curled his lip in contempt. "You're going to pay for every..." He happened to glance down then, and it was astounding how wide his eyes got. "What is that?"

Minho followed his gaze. Through the thin fabric of his T-shirt, there was a ghost of black ink. "What's wrong, Dad?" he asked in mock innocence.

Mr. Park blustered in newfound anger. "No son of MINE will have a—a tattoo!"

"I had it for years," Minho told him, and Mr. Park staggered back an inch. Minho gave a bitter laugh. "But you know me so well, don't you? I bet you knew all along."

Mr. Park was struck dumb, because he'd never known. He'd never even guessed that Minho would do such a thing. He fought with himself for another insult, but there was none. Clenching his jaw, he spun away from Minho and stormed toward the front door. "Marian, we're leaving," he announced sternly. "I've had enough of this."

Marian, conflicted, glanced between her husband and her stepson. "Rin, this isn't right," she protested.

"You're right," he agreed, seizing the doorknob. "None of this is right."

Marian deflated. There was no arguing with Mr. Park once his mind was made. Placing her glass cautiously on a coffee table, she glanced apologetically at Minho and Newt. "I'm sorry," she said, and Minho could tell she meant it. Then she scurried to her husband's side.

Mr. Park tugged the door open and threw a last scowl back at Minho. "We won't be coming back," he told his son blackly.

"Good." Minho stood straight, looking his father in the eye. Let him leave and never come back. Minho didn't need him.

With a final mutter to his wife to hurry up, the two vanished out the door. Mr. Park slammed the door behind him and the sound rang throughout the house like a gunshot. Going after them to the door, Minho locked it roughly behind them, then rested his forehead against the wood. He shut his eyes, telling himself to ignore the guilt and sadness in his heart. They didn't matter. His father's approval wasn't something he needed. Minho's fingers tightened on the knob.

Hesitant footsteps crept up from the living room. A pair of arms circled around Minho's waist from behind and linked over his stomach. "Minho?" Newt murmured tentatively. When he received no answer, he rested his cheek on Minho's back. "Are you okay?"

Minho muttered, "I'm fine," unconvincingly. He wouldn't turn around to see his boyfriend.

Silence. Newt let himself sink fully against Minho's back, sharing his body heat. "No, you're not," he argued softly.

"I'm not going to argue with you, Newt." Minho could sense the bitterness settling into his chest.

"I don't want to argue with you," Newt replied. "I just don't want to see you controlled by your dad."

Minho's bitterness sparked. "I'm not talking about this." He shrugged out of Newt's arms and moved away from him, into the kitchen. "He doesn't control me," he said sharply. "He thinks he does, but I don't care what he thinks." The lie tasted sour on his tongue. Folding his arms over his chest, he glared at nothing. "I don't need you to keep bringing it up."

There was another long silence. Minho's gaze flicked up to Newt, and his glare fell away when he saw the blonde's hurt expression. "Newt," he started, then raked a frustrated hand through his hair. "I didn't mean it."

"Yeah. Sure." Newt hugged himself.

"I was mad," Minho explained, heart constricting. "You know I don't like fighting with you."

Newt hummed noncommittally.

"Newt..." Making his way over to the blonde, Minho took him by the shoulders. He bent down a bit to peer into Newt's face. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't let him get to me; you're right. I hate arguing with you. You know that, don't you?"

Newt nudged at the floor with his toe. "I guess." Then his mouth curled at the corners. "I expect a better apology than THAT, though."

Minho smiled fondly. The love he felt for Newt then outshone all other love he'd ever felt. He ran his hands up and down Newt's arms. "My love," he murmured, and kissed Newt's forehead. "My only love. I'm sorry. Forgive me?"

Newt's sapphire eyes glowed and he looped his arms around Minho's neck. "I forgive you," he replied.

"Thank y—"

"But only if you give me something first."

Minho's eyebrows rose a fraction. "Oh? And what's that?"

Newt tipped his chin up invitingly. "A kiss," he requested.

A half-smirk twisted Minho's mouth. Feeling truly devious, he bit his lower lip over it. Newt exhaled, eyes fogging over in want. "A kiss..." Minho trailed off, reaching up to trace the line of Newt's lips with his thumb. Newt let out a mewl. "I guess I can give you one." He placed his hands at Newt's lower back and pulled him into a long, deep kiss. He didn't intend for it to be TOO long, exactly, but Newt still tasted like sweet tea and he was running his tongue over Minho's teeth in the most addictive way. Their bodies brushed as Minho pulled Newt in closer, letting himself become lost in his angel. It was a wonderful, wonderful feeling to be able to do this whenever he wanted, without fear.

"Forgive me now?" he asked, once they'd parted, voice husky from kissing.

Newt tugged Minho down by his hair and kissed him once more. "Yes," he whispered gently, after breaking it again. "I forgive you."

Minho smiled. Then he pulled playfully at Newt's sleeves. "C'mon," he said, guiding Newt toward the living room. "I have a surprise for you."

Newt let himself be led to their couch. "What kind of surprise?"

"DVD's of Downton Abbey." Minho heard Newt's squeak of delight and broke into a full grin. "And me," he added, with a glance over his shoulder.

Newt ran up behind Minho and placed a kiss at the spot beneath his ear. "Well," he said teasingly, wrapping his arms around Minho again, "I don't think I know which I want more..."

He chose Minho, in the end.

-END-


End file.
